


monster mash

by sidnihoudini



Series: Fork and Knife [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Chris vs. Spiders, Halloween, M/M, Public Sex, Pumpkins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-23 11:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8325631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidnihoudini/pseuds/sidnihoudini
Summary: Halloween over nine years.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> It is time for 13 days of F&K Halloween!!!

_2017_

After a gruelling month in Atlanta, they’re in LA for exactly 72 hours between shooting dates.

Seb plans to take full advantage of their time off.

“Get outta here,” he whispers, trying to push Dodger away from the bed. If anyone is gonna blow his cover, it’s the dog.

Dodger, for some reason Seb still hasn’t been able to figure out, loves being shoved. He jumps in excitement when Seb pushes him to the side, which gives Seb just enough time to pull the bed sheets back and gingerly place the black plastic spider directly on Chris’s side.

He manages to flip the blanket back and kneel down beside the dog just as Chris walks through the door.

“Hey have you seen my white shirt?” he asks, eyebrows knotting as he stops to confusedly poke around their luggage at the foot of the bed.

Seb, poker face fully equipped, looks up from where he’s trying to wrestle Dodger to the ground, and says, “I haven’t seen it since Boston.”

“Fuck,” Chris complains succinctly, letting the luggage flop closed.

“You have a hundred white shirts,” Seb says, getting back up from the floor and laughing when Dodger jumps up on the bed, trying to get Seb to continue playing. He glances over at Chris again and asks, “Where are you going where you need a shirt?”

Chris laughs at that, and brings one arm up to cover his chest as he says, “Don’t objectify me.”

~

The fake spider waits, patiently, until they go to bed that night.

Seb kills as much time as he can in the bathroom, taking forever to brush his teeth and wash his face, and listens as Chris bumbles around in the bedroom getting ready for bed.

If Seb comes out now they’re gonna fuck right on top of everything and the whole day will be wasted.

“Babe are you - ” Chris starts to say, before cutting himself off with a loud, “AHH!”

Fuck. Seb starts laughing at himself in the mirror immediately; he wishes he could have seen Chris’s face, but lurking in the doorway would have been a dead giveaway. When he makes his way back to the bedroom, Chris is standing there with his pants unbuttoned and the entire top sheet ripped off the bed and half in his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Seb asks, even though the laugh trying to warble its way out is a dead giveaway.

“Fuck,” Chris manages, holding onto one boob. “Is that you?”

Seb cracks up again, and watches as Chris flicks the fake spider to the floor with his foot.

~

The next day, Seb is purposely downstairs before Chris is.

That alone should be enough to tip Chris off.

He may or may not have invested in an assortment of fake spiders, all of which he is keeping in a plastic grocery bag underneath the sink. This morning, he kneels down and picks one out to put inside Chris’s thing of protein powder.

Today’s payoff doesn’t take nearly as long as yesterday’s did.

Fifteen minutes after dropping the spider, Seb is standing at the counter in his sweatpants waiting for the coffee to finish, when Chris shuffles in, still half asleep. He wanders up behind Seb and snugs in first, feeling up his chest and a little bit of butt before he continues on his way to the other counter where the blender is.

It takes Chris the better part of ten minutes to sleepily fumble his way through putting his daily protein shake together. He reaches for the powder last, where it sits in the exact same spot Seb left it half an hour ago.

Chris has his whole hand in the container, and the scoop about halfway out, before he notices.

“Fuck!” he blurts, still tired enough to not be firing on all fear cylinders. The thing of powder goes flying through the air and lands on the floor with a bounce, blowing protein mix everywhere.

Dodger immediately comes thundering down the stairs to see what’s going on.

“Aw babe,” Seb manages, cracking up at the look on Chris’s face.

~

While Chris is outside with Dodger, Seb fashions a poking device out of a hockey stick and some tape, and manages to stick a spider to the ceiling.

~

They’re halfway through their second annual Halloween movie marathon.

Unsurprisingly, this afternoon’s viewing of Gremlins 2 - which Seb maintains is NOT scary enough for their current roster - is turning out no different than the majority of their at-home movie dates.

Seb’s knees sink into the couch cushions as he lifts himself up and drops back down onto Chris’s dick, brain momentarily going offline as he does so. He may have started this but, damn, now he is fully just along for the ride. Seb swears again, and gets to panting when Chris starts thumbing at his nipples.

The movie is kind of weird background noise, but the remote is way too far away to mute it now.

“Jesus, Seb,” Chris pants, rubbing at his pecs with both hands, and then up over his collarbone.

A little out of breath, Seb laughs and teases, “What?” as he runs a hand through Chris’s hair.

Seb knows all of his tricks, and immediately clocks the moment Chris goes to tip his head back, wanting to settle in so he can watch Seb ride him.

“Nuh uh,” Seb manages, tugging him in for another kiss.

They’re both firmly in sex brain territory now, and Seb is deeply reconsidering his master plan. Chris is fucking him just right, squeezing the backs of Seb’s thighs and holding him close, working up into him relentlessly.

Seb momentarily forgets what’s going on, body slouching forward until his forehead bumps against Chris’s chin.

“Baby,” Chris pants, breathlessly laughing as he tilts his head back.

Eyes closed, Chris rests his head against the couch cushions and groans, eyebrows knotting as he thrusts up into Seb again.

When Chris inevitably opens his eyes and sees the spider on the ceiling, Seb feels his body react first. Chris’s stomach and leg muscles tighten up, forearms jerking, shoulders bunching up. His hands snap up to Seb’s waist, but in the face of a spider, it’s more of an afterthought.

“Fuck,” he blurts, knocking Seb off his dick.

Seb lands on the couch, sprawled, naked, and hard. Chris ends up on the floor, probably with rug burn on his bare ass if the velocity he lands with is any indication.

“Babe,” Chris complains with a frown, clutching at his chest.

~

When they go to bed that night, Chris suspiciously jerks the blanket back before getting in.

Honestly. Like Seb would use the same hiding spot twice.

~

The next morning, Seb sits at the kitchen island and watches as Chris makes pancakes.

“He’s waiting for you to drop something,” Seb laughs, when Chris almost trips over Dodger for the third time.

Chris toes at Dodger, trying to get him to back off, and says, “Get outta here, pal, come on.”

Putting on his most innocent face, Seb leans down to pet Dodger as he walks by, and asks, “Is there any juice?”

Technically juice is forbidden this week. But also technically, what their nutritionist doesn’t know won’t kill her.

Or, more specifically, them.

As their inaugural morning pancake cooks on the stove, Chris snags two glasses from the cupboard - they’re both in on the lie, then - and sets both down in front of Seb before detouring back to the fridge.

“SEB,” he swears, condiments bottles clinking when he bangs into the inside of the door.

Cackling, Seb holds onto his chest with one hand and leans back, laughing at the ceiling.

“Don’t look in the freezer,” he warns, completely beside himself with amusement as Chris flicks the plastic spider out of the fridge and onto the floor.

~

Chris has a thousand empty threats for him that day, all, “I’m gonna get you back,” and, “watch out.”

“Ahh!” Seb exclaims, pointing to a random spot on Chris’s shirt.

Already on edge, Chris startles and automatically smacks himself in the spot where Seb pointed.

“Atlanta can have you,” Chris grouches, making a face when Seb gives him a dirty look.

“You’d miss me,” Seb replies easily, laughing when Chris wraps an arm around him and tugs him over, smacking a kiss to the side of his head, “And the spiders.”

Chris laughs, but manages to keep a mostly straight face as he says, “Debatable.”

~

As Chris wanders out of the office, Seb walks up and tugs on the front tie of his sweatpants.

“Put on some clothes,” Seb says, leaning in for a kiss, “We’re going out.”

Immediately suspicious, Chris brings his hands up to Seb’s face, and rests one on each cheek.

“Why is that happening,” he frowns, brushing Seb’s stubble with his thumbs. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Seb grins, raising his eyebrows. He makes his face all soft and cute, too. “It’s a surprise, I’m driving.”

Skepticism deepening, Chris tilts his head, narrows his eyes, and says, “You hate driving.”

“It’s a surpriiiise,” Seb replies, turning it all the way on, and making his voice all gentle and shit.

Chris immediately crumbles, but he doesn’t look happy about it.

~

They’re on the 110 when the sun peeks just right over the horizon and Chris starts digging around for his sunglasses.

“What the fuck,” he complains, rummaging around the center console.

Traffic is, unsurprisingly, a bitch. Seb creeps forward another six inches and looks over at Chris’s hands.

“Just flip the thing,” Seb says helpfully, squinting a little himself as he looks back at the freeway. He may or may not have removed all paraphernalia related to blocking the sun while Chris was in the shower.

Chris makes a ‘ehh’ noise and brings a hand up to his face, shielding his eyes from the sun that way.

“Are we going to a spider farm or something?” he asks, sounding a little grumpy. “Surprise! Spider house.”

Cracking up, Seb shakes his head and leans back, looking over at Chris with a huge smile on his face as they continue to crawl along. He’s squinting into the horizon now, face all drawn and sour.

“I promise we’re not going to a spider house,” Seb says, trying to be solemn. “I just want to take you out for dinner.”

Chris looks over at him suspiciously, clearly thinking it over. He finally admits, “That sounds cute.”

“You’re cute,” Seb replies automatically, looking back to the road.

It takes another five minutes for Chris to get bored with holding his hand up to his face. When he flips down the sun visor, they’re still in bumper to bumper traffic and Seb is debating taking a picture of a vanity license plate in front of him that says LIL HOE.

The spider Seb stuck behind the visor falls directly into Chris’s lap and lands on his dick.

“What the fuck!” Chris swears immediately, jumping enough to make the seat belt lock. It only takes him a second to realize it’s another fake one - he starts laughing even though he sounds kinda mad and yells, “Seb! Fuck!” as he throws it across the car.

Seb laughs - Chris’s dramatic reactions never get old - and catches the tiny spider as it smacks into his boob.

“You’re too easy!” Seb exclaims, busting into another round of laughter when Chris gives him a dirty look.

~

As they get out of the car and walk across the restaurant parking lot, Seb laughs and rubs Chris’s back.

“Baby,” he says, still smiling as he puts a little distance between them - just in case.

Chris side-eyes him a little, clearly trying not to laugh as he replies, “Don’t ‘baby’ me. Get outta here.”

If they were at home Seb would absolutely turn it on thick, but in public all he can do is hold the restaurant door open as they step inside. It’s nothing fancy, but Seb has been looking forward to eating a plate full of tacos since they left Atlanta, and this is the best Mexican place in the neighborhood.

They’re both as incognito as it gets, but it doesn’t seem to matter. There are only a handful of people here and none of them seem to give two shits as they’re shown to a table.

It’s nice, if not a little nerve-wracking to hang out in public like this.

“Did you see all this shit about the meteor?” Chris asks, swivelling his phone around on the table so Seb can check it out.

Fifteen minutes later, Chris is in the bathroom washing his hands when the food arrives.

“Thanks,” Seb smiles up at the waitress as she sets their plates down, “Looks great.”

He throws one last look over his shoulder at the hallway that leads to the bathroom. With the coast clear, he leans back and fishes around in his jean pocket for the spider Chris threw at him in the car.

“That’s mean,” the waitress laughs, watching as he settles it perfectly under Chris’s napkin.

Seb cracks up and replies, “Don’t tell on me.”

~

The food is delicious, as always.

“Oh, man. You gotta try this,” Chris announces, shoving a thing of salsa towards Seb’s plate. He’s so into his recommendation, he miscalculates the distance between the two items and clinks both pieces of dishware together.

“Babe, watch out,” Seb replies automatically, reaching out to steady both ringing plates.

Chris makes a delayed ‘oops’ face and reaches for his water.

As Seb swallows his previous mouthful, he digs a chip into Chris’s salsa and takes a bite.

While he chews, Chris settles back in his seat, one hand resting on his stomach as he watches Seb’s reaction to the food.

“It’s spicy,” Seb reviews, in deep thought, “but good.”

If he hadn’t already eaten a burrito the size of his forearm, he’d probably hit it a little harder, but alas. As he chews, he reaches for his napkin, trying to spur Chris into going for his. He’s so full he’s definitely going to have to lay on the couch once they get home.

Also maybe Chris will drive back if Seb gives him some face.

“I’ll get the rest to go,” Chris offers, reaching for his water again. He takes a drink, sets it back down, and picks up his napkin.

Welcome to spider house.

Surprisingly, this time he doesn’t swear. He does, however, knock his entire glass of water over, and exclaim, “What!” really loudly.

Because the shock on Chris’s face never gets old, Seb starts cracking up immediately. He also reaches forward, and uses his own napkin to contain some of the water spill.

“Twice in one hour,” he laughs, as Chris cradles his face in both hands. “That’s amazing!”

From behind his shame screen, Chris shakes his head and swears, “Seb, jesus.”

~

“I’m banishing you,” Chris laughs, trying to kick Seb off the couch, “Leave forever.”

Cracking up, Seb digs his way back in, flopping over Chris’s calves, and says, “You’d miss me!”

“Take you and your… your… troupe of spiders with you,” Chris counters, laughing as Seb gets him around the waist.

~

The next morning, Seb is already in the shower when Chris rolls in, half asleep and cuddly.

“Hi,” Seb greets, smiling when Chris’s arms automatically go around his waist, and he gets a nose in the crook of his neck.

Chris barely replies, just digs in a little closer and says, “Mmm.”

“Why didn’t you stay in bed,” Seb laughs, rinsing the soap off his chest with one hand.

Instead of a real answer, Chris just gives him an, “Mmm,” again.

Seb finishes rinsing off and turns around, wrapping his arms around Chris’s neck as he does so.

“I need to get out,” he smiles, going in for a kiss.

Unsurprisingly, Chris does not seem concerned with Seb’s plans to leave the shower. It takes a minute of repositioning, but Seb gets himself unwrapped and grabs a towel as he steps back out onto the tile.

He definitely doesn’t tell Chris about the spider he left behind the shampoo bottles.

~

Five minutes later, Seb hears the bottle of shampoo hit the floor, followed by a loud, “FUCK.”

~

This is Seb’s opus.

Every day of his life has led up to this very moment.

Forget the movies. The events. The photoshoots. This is it.

He’s already laughing - he can’t help it, it’s so goddamn funny - as he ties a little knot around the spider. This particular location was a late addition, so he had to use what he could find, which is basically butcher’s twine.

Also he has no idea why they have a roll of butcher's twine - he’s going to blame it on Scott for now - but he’s not about to turn his nose up at a miracle.

After taping the non-spider end of the string to the bathroom doorframe, he takes a step back to survey his work.

It’s absolutely ridiculous.

Seb cracks up again as he pulls out his phone. He needs to get photo evidence of this monstrosity.

~

He’s sitting at the kitchen counter eating leftovers when Chris gets back from his run.

“Gross,” Seb complains, trying to lean away from Chris’s sweaty face.

Despite that, Chris laughs and leans in, kissing the side of Seb’s head before he reaches over his shoulder to steal a chip.

“I hate running,” Chris complains, still out of breath as he walks around the island, pulling his earbuds out and unzipping his jacket.

It’s Fila. Very fancy.

“Everybody hates running,” Seb agrees easily, holding out another chip. Chris immediately takes it and jams it in his mouth, crunching loudly as he wanders away to take his shoes and clothes off. “Did you see that dog you like?”

There’s this black lab that lives in a mansion a couple blocks over. Every single time they pass the house, Chris has a million questions. I wonder what his name is, I wonder how smart he is - wow look at that, I bet that dog can run pretty fast huh, I bet he thinks all kinds of things sitting there all day hey babe?

If they were in LA when the world ended, it’s possible Chris would leave Seb and Dodger to take off with that dog instead.

“Oh yeah I did,” Chris answers, dropping his jacket on the couch and heading towards the bathroom. “You know it’s funny because I was thinking about him the other day and - AHHHHHHH!!”

Seb turns just in time to see Chris flail backwards, accidentally catching the spider string with his hand as he goes. The horrified expression on his face doubles when he realizes the string is stuck between his fingers, and he shakes his hand out dramatically, eyebrows arching up into his hairline as he panics.

By the time he gets himself untangled, the spider is like ten feet away and he’s shirtless for some reason.

Across the room, Seb is laughing so hard he literally has tears in his eyes.

“Oh my god,” he manages, practically falling off the stool as he stands up. “Babe.”

Chris kicks his shirt away from where it landed on top of the spider pile, and exclaims, “A fucking string?!”

“I honestly thought you would see that one,” Seb cackles, as Dodger does a driveby sniff of the spider.

Still a little jazzed up on adrenaline, Chris stoops down to wrap his arms around Seb’s waist, and rest his face against Seb’s shoulder.

“Ahhh,” he says, pathetically, laughing.

~

They’re watching one last movie before their flight back to Atlanta tomorrow.

Well, it’s not really tomorrow, it’s five hours from now, but they’ll have enough time to get some sleep on the plane. Seb is not going to bed before midnight on their last day at home for another month or two.

Priorities.

“I vote for Creepshow,” Seb says, leaning back against the cushions. “Hocus Pocus doesn’t count.”

Offended, Chris replies, “Hocus Pocus totally counts,” but clicks over to Creepshow anyways.

Seb stretches out across the couch and rests his feet on the coffee table. Once Chris gets himself situated, Seb is planning to get his snug on.

“I need a refill,” Chris says, pausing the movie before it starts. He snags his glass from the table and gets up, hitting the lights on his way to the kitchen.

As Seb waits, he watches Chris’s butt in his sweatpants.

“Can I interest you in losing those?” Seb calls, also taking a moment to appreciate the shifting muscles in Chris’s back as he pours himself another glass of juice.

Chris laughs and asks, “Losing what?”

“You know what,” Seb replies, grinning as Chris gives him a look.

“I’m an innocent,” Chris says as he makes his way back across the room. It seems like he’s about to say something else in his terrible Nancy Grace voice when he stops a few feet away, looks down at the carpet, and snorts, “Pfft, Seb. Not even a good spot this time!”

Seb opens his mouth to reply - honestly, there are no further spider strategies being implemented tonight - but he doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Chris bends over, and reaches for whatever it is on the floor.

“Really, babe, this doesn’t even look - oh my god, it moved!” Chris yelps, almost falling over in his struggle to get back to his feet. “Jesus!”

“What moved?” Seb asks, legitimately confused as he pushes himself up, trying to peer over the coffee table.

He has no idea what the fuck Chris is talking about until he sees a spider - real - running across the floor.

“Jesus, Seb, oh my god,” Chris babbles, wiping his hand off on his thigh, “Oh god, babe, I touched it.”

Laughing, now more out of shock than anything, Seb turns on a light and gets to his feet.

“Where’d he go?” Seb asks, one hand on Chris’s shoulder as they both squint at the floor.

Movie night is delayed by a good twenty minutes while they locate the spider, which is still alive and well and hiding underneath the TV stand when Seb traps him with a cup.

“He’s gone,” Seb announces, closing the front door.

On the couch, Chris scratches the inside of his elbow and frowns.

~

Before they head upstairs to nap for a couple hours prior to their 5AM flight, Seb carefully removes the last plastic spider he had waiting near Chris’s shoes.

“What were you upto,” Chris asks, looking very skeptical as Seb crawls into bed beside him.

Laughing, Seb cuts himself off with a yawn and then rolls into Chris’s side, resting his chin on Chris’s chest.

“I definitely put a morning spider in your shoe,” he admits, and then raises his eyebrows, trying to look cute.

Chris cracks up at that, covering Seb’s face with his hand to push him away a little. He says, “Get that face outta my face.”

“Never,” Seb replies, rolling into it.


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day two!! This one is (probably obviously) set the day after Seb's semi-recent Instagram rant.

_2016_

“It’s bullshit, is what it is,” Seb complains, finishing his rant as he turns the heat down. “Do you want spinach?”

Here’s the situation.

Over the last twenty four hours, Seb has: gotten into it on Instagram, been unceremoniously rolled out to a movie preview with suspiciously perfect timing, and - last but not least - flown back to Boston after being told to “go home and chill” for a couple days.

He’s fucking chill, alright. He’s ice cold.

Across the room, Chris is sitting on the couch, intently listening to Seb’s tale. He’s also been tasked with packing a bowl and trying to find something scary on Netflix, so they can kick off their newly conceptualized Halloween movie marathon.

So far he’s got one packed bowl, and one blank TV screen.

“Sure,” Chris replies belatedly - which is good, because Seb has already put a whole thing of spinach on his plate. He listens as Chris presses the lid back onto their weed tupperware with two careful hands, and turns around just in time to catch the confused squint in Chris’s eyes. “I wouldn’t worry about that stuff. It’s all studio politics.”

“I’m not worried about it,” Seb replies automatically. It’s technically true. He’s not so much worried about it as he is crabby it even happened. “I’m just saying. If people are going to shit-talk my friends, I’m going to say something about it, and that’s my choice. I’m not some… dog on a bicycle.”

Chris pauses at that, eyebrow doing its own thing as he thinks.

“I’m pretty sure it’s dog on a leash,” he says finally, even though he doesn’t sound super confident about it. “A dog wouldn’t be on a bicycle, that’s more of a bear thing.”

Seb would beg to differ, but that’s a debate for another time.

“Either way,” he frowns, entire mouth turning down. He takes the lid off the rice as Chris wanders over, still only wearing the sweatpants he threw on after their shower. Seb digs a spoon into the pot, grimaces immediately, and warns, “This might be a little burnt.”

Shrugging, Chris slides one hand down the back of Seb’s undies, smacks a kiss to the side of his jaw, and tucks into his shoulder, looking over it to reply, “Seems fine to me. How was that preview thing you saw?”

Seb snorts, and then squirms a bit as Chris noses at him, beard scratching at his neck.

“Huh, how was the preview?” Seb repeats, going for just a kernel of indignation. He screws his face up as Chris accepts his dinner plate with one hand, and further elaborates, “That’s not the point. I mean, it was fine.”

As he pauses, Chris lets go of Seb and reaches for a fork instead, says, “Hmm.”

“Actually it was really good,” Seb admits, watching as Chris scoops up a good forkful of chicken and rice and puts it in his mouth. “It doesn’t - that’s burnt, right?”

“No,” Chris garbles, mouth full of food. He knots his eyebrows together and says, “It’s good, actually.”

That’s entirely debatable, Seb thinks, moving to grab two beers out of the fridge. One time they cooked a frozen pizza and somehow managed to burn the outside, even though the inside was still icy and wet. One of them still ate half of it, though, and it wasn’t Seb.

Side-stepping Dodger, Seb pauses to adjust his underwear, and then snags his own plate off the counter.

“What was I talking about?” he asks Chris’s bare back, following him into the living room.

“Being a circus bear,” Chris replies automatically, settling back into the middle of the couch. He’s definitely still a little stoned from earlier, when Seb showed up to find him totally baked on the couch at three in the afternoon.

That, of course, led to a decent amount of hello I missed you groping. Followed directly by a quick bone.

“Right,” Seb nods, setting down the beers and then stepping over Chris’s legs to sit beside him.

As Seb drops down into the cushions, Chris shakes his head, takes another gigantic bite of food, and says, “I mean, babe. You’re right - obviously - but that doesn’t mean it’s going to change. That’s just the way it is.”

In return, Seb makes the sourest knee-jerk expression of his life. Like this bitch was all deep thoughts and buddhism quotes when Tom Brady got suspended for what, like five minutes.

“I cannot believe you just said that,” Seb intones, squinting his eyes. “What are you, Mr. Zen all of a sudden?”

That makes Chris surprise laugh, unplanned enough that he ends up inhaling a piece of rice or something by accident. He sits there, laughing and coughing and rubbing at his stupid gigantic chest, with a deliberately pained look on his face.

“CPR,” he manages in a pathetic little voice, still trying to clear his throat.

It’s enough to make Seb laugh. He leans in, just enough to make it seem like he’s helping, and pinches Chris’s nipple.

“Ooh, domestic violence!” Chris cackles, still struggling to get his regular voice back as he reaches up to grab his boob. It takes a sip of beer for him to get his head on right, and then he gestures to the weed container that is a solid 75% more full than it was the last time Seb saw it, and explains, “I’m not zen, this is just really good weed.”

Seb laughs at that, and then takes a bite of his dinner as Chris reaches for the freshly packed bowl.

Even though Seb offers up a suspicious eyebrow in return, Chris just holds the little glass pipe up between them, nods down at Seb’s plate of food, and says, “Here, babe, switch.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Seb frowns, before his mouth drops open into what might escalate into a roar.

With a big dumb smile on his face, Chris grins back, and watches as Seb gives in.

If there’s one thing Chris can do unreasonably well - other than his marketable skills and fucking - it’s getting Seb thoroughly baked.

“Just be satisfied you didn’t have to do the Miss America apology tour,” Chris sighs, leaning back and putting both hands up behind his head as he watches Seb bring the piece up to his mouth and flick the lighter a couple times. “I’m two for two on that one. I will say you should stop eating the food people give you, though.”

Seb holds the hit for as long as he can, and then, with one eye squinted shut in concentration, slowly begins to exhale. He ends up coughing a little as he says, “Listen, babe - that’s communism.”

“What?!” Chris cracks up immediately, looking totally lost as Seb hands the bowl back.

It’s a long running joke between them, pre-dating their relationship. All of Seb’s weirder habits, like accepting food from fans, eating food from strangers, and rummaging through people's unattended belongings, are leftovers from ‘the old country.’

There are generally only two events that have Seb speaking Romanian in front of Chris: when his mom calls, and every now and then when he pulls out a Mother Russia joke.

“When someone offers you rations, you take them,” Seb says, putting on a super accented voice.

He gets a boob grab out of that, and ends up laughing a little himself as Chris throws his head back, flopping into the couch cushions uselessly. If he didn’t currently have the bowl in his hands, Seb’s sure he’d start clapping.

“Babe, that - what?” he manages, raising his eyebrows fondly. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“You were not part of the old country,” Seb replies easily, watching as Chris brings the bowl to his mouth.

Chris offers him a flat look over the curve of his hand.

~

They settle on Scream after Seb uses two of his three vetoes on Hocus Pocus and Casper.

“I wanna see some bloodied limbs,” Seb exclaims, fist pumping the ceiling with one hand, and holding onto Chris with the other so he doesn’t fall into the crack of the couch. Chris, pushed up onto one elbow, fumbles the Xbox controller from the coffee table.

In three whole states, this is really the only couch that accommodates a good cuddle. Tonight they’re both snugged up on the same end of the L, with Chris mostly underneath Seb, and Seb spread out across his chest.

It’s not the most comfortable long-term position, but Seb missed his man.

“I’m not naming names, but someone may or may not have slept in Scott’s room after watching this,” Chris laughs, flopping back onto the couch. He cards his fingers through Seb’s frankly insane looking hair, and watches as Drew Barrymore answers the phone on-screen. “I snuck into the theatre even though my mom said no.”

Seb cackles, tilting his head back, head bumping the back rest as he looks up at Chris’s face.

“What a loooser,” he teases, wrinkling up his face.

Sandwiched between Seb and the couch, Chris laughs and smacks him, and then defends himself with, “Hey! She was right, oh my god. The same year some guy in a white mask chased us while we were trick or treating. I think I had a stroke.”

“That explains things,” Seb says, trying to keep a straight face but cracking up before he can finish.

Chris offers him a flat ‘funny’ expression, and arches an eyebrow.

“You’re a bad influence,” he complains, adjusting his position. He widens his legs, so more of Seb’s weight rests against his dick, and jabs him in the butt.

Seb grins and pushes himself up, so his mouth is hovering close to Chris’s.

“I’m the best influence,” he corrects, tilting down to give Chris a kiss. As he pulls back, he scratches through Chris’s beard and says, thoughtfully, “You’re looking a little hermit-y.”

“I was going for lumberjack,” Chris admits, grinning. He pats Seb’s butt cheek and adds, “I’ll trim it later.”

Even though Seb knows he’s smiling like a big nerd, he can’t help it. He thumbs at the little spot below the corner of Chris’s mouth, where stubble never seems to come in, and scrunches up his nose.

“It’s good any way,” he promises, and they both make immediate ‘that’s gross’ faces at each other until Seb leans down and tucks back into the curve of Chris’s neck. Because he can’t help himself, he raises one hand up to squeeze Chris’s boob, and adds, “Honk honk.”

“Hey!” Chris laughs, pec muscle jerking in surprise. He lifts his leg up, wrapping it around the backs of Seb’s thighs, and presses his mouth against Seb’s ear to murmur, “I’ll remind you that, despite an incredible loss last year, I’ll be coming back for my title soon.”

Seb cracks up at that, maybe going a little heart-eyed despite himself as he pulls back to look down at Chris.

It’s kind of a long story but, after not seeing one another for a couple weeks last year, they may or may not have held an impromptu two-man wrestling match. At a hotel in Salt Lake City. No clothes allowed. And Seb ended up the victor.

The extra fifty pounds he had on for Bucky didn’t hurt.

“Oh yeah?” Seb asks, teasing a little, raising his eyebrow as Chris wraps him up in another hug. “I don’t know. I might not be packing weight, but I still might be able to take you down. I’m scrappy.”

“Uh-uh, no dirty fighting,” Chris grins back, trying to divert Seb’s attention away from his chest. Seb ends up psyching him out anyway, acts like he’s going for Chris’s hip but pokes at the soft spot on his side instead.

They fuck around for a minute and end up half off the couch, Chris’s legs splayed wide open, and Seb half over him with one arm trapped underneath. They’re both laughing so much their stomach muscles are pretty much useless, both of them left to flop and grab rather than anything effective.

“We’re missing the movie!” Seb exclaims, cracking up again when Chris manages to get a foot underneath himself, slip against the carpet and kick the table, then knock them both back into the couch. The whole thing happens in about three seconds.

“It’s your favorite,” Chris manages, nodding towards the TV. He’s out of breath from the scuffle and being under Seb’s weight, “Courtney Monica!”

Seb laughs, and watches as David Arquette wanders across the school field wearing a brown cop uniform.

“There’s a look for you,” Seb comments, as they both settle back down. Chris hasn’t let go of the Seb hand he managed to contain in the skirmish, and one of Seb’s arms are still wrapped up around Chris’s back. “Maybe shorts instead of pants. Who is that, Reno 911.”

“Oh yeah, there’s one for Instagram,” Chris snorts, bringing their hands up so he can kiss the back of Seb’s.

Seb laughs, adding, “I would look REALLY good in a little vest,” as Chris smacks another impulsive kiss to Seb’s hand.

~

The movie is almost halfway over by the time they both settle down, nice and warm and sleepy after finishing off their beers and sharing the rest of the bowl.

They’ve flipped onto their sides, Chris behind Seb, getting a little living room spoon on.

Last time Chris came back from a pee break, Seb was all, “Grab me that blanket,” so now they’ve got one of those too.

“Why am I still scared of that mask,” Chris wonders into the side of Seb’s face.

Wrapped up in front of Chris, with both of Chris’s arms folded across his chest, Seb smiles and sleepily replies, “You’re a baby.”

“Hmmmm,” Chris replies, chest vibrating where it’s all pressed up against the back of Seb’s shoulder.

Seb rests one hand over one of Chris’s forearms, and turns his head a little, so he can see Chris out of the corner of his eye. He smiles, going cross-eyed a little, as Chris leans in to press a sleepy kiss to the side of his face.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is late but it's here!
> 
> You may remember Chris's friends from [7/4/16](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7411538).
> 
> HAPPY DAY THREE

_2013_

“Yeah, you should come,” Chris reiterates, nervously scratching at the back of his ear. He closes the kitchen cupboard, and sets his coffee mug on the counter. “It’ll be, you know. Just close friends.”

Grimacing at himself, Chris stands there stupidly, waiting for Seb to reply.

“Sure,” he finally says, “Sure, that sounds great.”

“Alright,” Chris replies, managing not to smile too big. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

“You got it,” Seb says, laughing a little bit.

~

Chris is home for two months before reshoots, and he plans to take advantage of every minute.

He loads up at the liquor store, gets a couple nice steaks from the butcher, and rolls up to Mike’s place on a Thursday night.

The following Saturday, they’re planning to do a little Welcome Home Chris type bonfire.

Aside from Christmas, this is Chris’s favorite time of the year. The weather is right, the leaves are orange, and Halloween decorations are aplenty. While the last couple Octobers have not exactly treated him right, he’s got big plans for this one.

After what happened earlier this year, anything is possible.

“So this new friend of yours,” Mike says, a little sarcastic - dragging out the _fffffffriend_ \- as they kick back in front of the TV to watch some Friday Night Football.

Chris glances up, surprised, and pulls a beer out of the six pack set between their armchairs.

“It’s just a casual thing,” Chris shrugs, lining the bottle opener up underneath the cap. With a grimace, he pops the top off, and watches as Mike’s dog chases it as it flies across the room. He glances back at Mike and reiterates, “Nothing serious.”

“Alright,” Mike nods, but he already looks like he doesn’t trust a word coming out of Chris’s mouth. “Casual.”

“Yeah,” Chris nods, settling back with his beer, and accepting the bottle cap out of the dog’s mouth when he comes running back proudly. “Super that.”

Mike looks at him a moment longer - Chris hopes he can’t see the flush creeping up his throat in this dim lighting - but lets it go.

~

They’re throwing the get together at Mike’s, mostly because Chris’s place in town wouldn’t be able to fit everyone, and his mother’s is totally out of the question.

Especially with Seb attending.

Christine, Mike’s girlfriend, has been nice enough to put together some food that isn’t steak, hot dogs, or hamburgers, and has even hung a little WELCOME BACK ASSHOLE banner over the kitchen cupboards.

Chris feels himself get a little misty-eyed when he first sees it.

“We can have dinner in here and then go out back for a bonfire,” Christine explains, popping open a gigantic bag of potato chips and upending them into an equally gigantic bowl. “We got enough booze to sink a battleship, too.”

“My kinda get together,” Mike cracks, snagging a handful of chips.

~

Seb flies into Logan from New York, and gets a cab to Mike’s.

“Wow, that’s kind of a dick move,” Jeannie snorts, overhearing the conversation between Chris and Jason as she empties out the two grocery bags of assorted party related items she brought. “You could have picked him up.”

A little affronted, Chris raises his second beer of the evening, and states, “I’m drunk.”

She rolls her eyes at him - clearly not buying his shit as easily as Mike did the other night - and starts yanking the plastic wrap off of the paper plates she brought. Chris inches closer, trying to get a better view of the design, little pumpkins or ghosts or some shit. Cute as hell.

“You’re dumb,” she replies, easily. Chris won’t argue with her there. “Some guy flies in just to see your stupid ass, and you can’t even pick him up from the airport?”

Fuck. She does make a very articulate point.

Chris frowns at her, eyebrows knotting, and says, “It’s a casual thing.”

“Okay,” she replies, clearly mocking him.

Well, shit. Chris thought he was being easy breezy and, you know. Unattached.

“I’ll call him,” he states, decisively, setting his beer on the kitchen counter and going for his phone.

Jeannie digs her cigarettes out of her purse and disappears through the kitchen door and into the backyard with a wave over one hand.

It’s only just after six; Chris might still be able to catch him.

“Hello?” Seb answers, a little out of breath.

Chris’s heart starts beating an extra hundred miles a minute. He’s been missing that voice for weeks.

“Oh, it’s me,” Chris manages, grimacing at himself and reaching for his beer. “Chris.”

Now Seb laughs, soft, and then murmurs, right into the phone, “What’s up, Chris.”

“I was just thinking,” Chris continues, aggressively waving Christine off when she comes snooping around, clearly intrigued by the look on his face. “Should I pick you up?”

There’s a pause - fuck, does Chris ever wish he could see how Seb is reacting - before Seb replies.

“I’m already in a taxi,” he finally says, and then laughs, “I fought someone else to get it.”

Laughing, Chris closes his eyes and covers his face with one hand.

“Alright, well,” he fumbles, a little embarrassed but mostly glad Seb is already on his way over. “I just thought I would check.”

“I appreciate it,” Seb grins back, voice teasing, “I’ll see you soon.”

~

Chris is out in the backyard, bent over with a piece of firewood in each hand, when Seb rolls in.

“Gimme the lighter,” Josh calls from the other side of the pit, clapping his gloved hands out in front of him.

Dropping one piece of wood, Chris rummages around in his jean pocket and tries to keep one ear on the back door as he finds it and passes it over.

They’ve got music on and Mike is chopping wood up the side of the house, so Chris can’t hear the comings and goings of one Sebastian Stan perfectly, but he can hear enough. The girls are giving him the once over, showing him where to drop his shit and what everyone is drinking, and there is exactly one round of surprised, genuine laughter that Chris can pretty safely trace right back to Seb saying something charming.

“The guys are outside,” Christine says, voice travelling through the opened back door perfectly.

Chris nervously stoops over the fire, and lays a piece of wood in it. There’s nothing to be nervous about. Three weeks ago they met up at Seb’s place in Manhattan and had marathon sex for like two days. Having a couple of drinks beside the fire is nothing.

He stands up and smiles when he sees Seb standing at the top of the deck stairs.

“Hey, you made it,” Chris greets, voice all weird and different than how it usually sounds.

He can practically hear Mike and Josh’s mental ‘oh shit’s from here.

“I made it,” Seb grins, immediately waving at Josh and Mike, “Hi, I’m Sebastian.”

Chris fidgets with his pockets, desperately needing something to do with his hands so he doesn’t just reach out and grab, as Seb comes down to ground level and gives the guys a handshake each. Chris ends up chewing at the side of his thumb as he watches the three of them shoot the shit a little, Josh cackling when Seb says something about the drive over.

“I need some more newspaper,” Mike announces, with suspiciously perfect timing.

Josh nods and agrees, “Yes, things that are located in the kitchen,” and they quickly disappear back up the steps.

“Very subtle,” Seb laughs, walking over to where Chris is still standing in the same patch of dirt.

Laughing, Chris shakes his head and pulls Seb into a hug, murmurs, “They like to think so,” against the side of his head.

They stand still for a minute, Seb’s leather jacket warming up from the fire and Chris’s embrace, until the fire pops and Chris swears, automatically taking a step back to avoid getting hit with an ember. Seb laughs and moves with him, leaving one arm around his lower back as they get out of the fire’s immediate path.

“How was your trip? Did you get a drink yet?” Chris asks, physically unable to stop himself as he rambles and pets from Seb’s shoulder to his elbow.

Seb smiles, looking a little smitten despite himself, and shakes his head, says, “I slept on the plane, and not yet, what are you drinking?”

“Beer,” Chris shrugs, looking at as much of Seb as he can in the dim light. He can’t help himself, even the moth riddled porch light is good enough, anything that shows Seb is right here, in front of him.

He runs a hand through Seb’s hair, still long, at least until re-shoots in December, and smiles.

“You should kiss me,” Seb finally whispers, one eye drifting over Chris’s shoulder. “Your friends are standing at the door waiting to come back out.”

Laughing, Chris holds Seb by the jaw and steps in close, pressing their mouths together.

His lips must be ice cold but Seb doesn’t seem to care.

~

Even though they all ate earlier in the night, Chris shows Seb where all the leftovers are, and hangs around in the kitchen while he gets himself a burger together.

Post food construction, Seb sets his burger on one of Jeannie’s cute pumpkin plates, and Chris grabs the half eaten chip bowl and two beers. Outside the fire is now properly raging, stoked enough that it doesn’t need constant babysitting to not die down.

“Bring the guac!” Christine forcibly yells from outside, so Chris does a u-turn to grab that from the fridge, too.

By the time they’re settled around the fire properly, chairs arm to arm thanks to Chris’s immediate relocation, everyone is three or four beers in and someone has officially broken out the Jock Jams playlist.

Chris isn’t drunk enough to sing along to Informer - yet - but he’s definitely getting there.

~

“I’m not fucking kidding you, bro!” Chris exclaims, launching forward in his chair with a laugh. The fabric makes an ominous creaking noise underneath him as he points his beer bottle at Mike and adds, “That was all me. All me!”

Seb is cracking up laughing beside him, covering his face with the hand not holding Chris’s.

“I need a neutral party here,” Mike complains. He unhinges his jaw to jam a fistful of chips into his mouth, and, through crunching noises, adds, “You’re just not that flexible, man.”

Tonight’s hot drunken debate topic is gymnastics.

You’re welcome.

“Wait a minute,” Chris babbles, holding up one hand so Mike doesn’t interrupt. “I will throw down a demonstration right here, right now for you, bro.”

Chris knows he’s reaching the next level of drunk when ‘bro’ becomes punctuation.

“You are telling me,” Mike begins, dramatically unwrapping a new pack of cigarettes, “You’re about to pull off some kind of rhythmic gymnastics routine over the fire?”

Instead of an actual response to Mike’s theoretical, Chris shouts, “Seb, back me up here!”

Everyone around the fire turns to look at Seb. They’re only interested in the argument because it’s so loud a secondary conversation is no longer possible, but Seb being dragged in as an unwilling third party is an intriguing new development.

“Flexibile - yeah,” he nods, completely straight-faced. “I give him a ten for flexibility.”

He says it with such a deadpan, deadass stare, there’s a full pause between the moment everyone processes his answer and when they start cracking up.

“Man,” Mike frowns, grimacing a little as he settles back in his camping chair, smoke dangling from between two fingers.

Chris cackles at that, pointing at him over the fire victoriously as he exclaims, “You asked! You asked!”

~

Bogey gets there late.

They do a round of Fireball to celebrate his arrival, which is bookended by him puking in the bushes and disappearing inside for an hour.

“If he’s puking in the dog bed again,” Christine warns, looking over at Mike. “I’m not cleaning it up.”

Chris laughs, drunk and happy, and throws back the last mouthful of beer.

As Christine and Mike begin to bicker about the semantics of Bogey puking in the house, Chris turns his head, automatically looking around for where Seb got to.

It takes Chris a minute to locate him. As much as he hates bright lights, he also can’t see shit at night; luckily the lit cigarette dangling from between Seb’s fingers is a dead giveaway.

He watches Seb for a minute - as much as he can while in the dark and this far away - and smiles when Seb has to fight to get the cap off his fresh beer. After a couple seconds of ineffectual twisting and looking for the bottle opener, he loses his patience, sticks the cigarette between his lips, stoops over, and knocks the cap off his bottle using the edge of the booze table.

Chris grins, totally clocked when Seb glances over and catches Chris watching him. He looks a little surprised, but then laughs, shrugging as Chris heart-eyes him.

Man, the things he’s going to have to stop himself from drunkenly admitting once they’re alone in the dark.

He zones out a little, watching Seb’s ass as he stands there talking to Jeannie. That’s a great butt. He’s seen it walk across three different continents and it never gets old.

It isn’t until he hears the crunch of leaves under foot that he realizes Seb is on the move again. He walks past Chris, clearly planning on making his way back to his own chair, when Chris leans forward, and snags him around the middle.

He’s just gotta get a little bit of that.

“Hey,” Seb laughs, moving easily as Chris tugs him down into his lap. He holds his beer up by the neck, trying not to spill it, and relaxes as Chris wraps his arms around Seb’s waist and tucks his nose into the back of his neck.

He’s maybe a little drunk. He’s maybe been holding off on doing this all night.

“You’re a menace,” Chris murmurs against the shell of Seb’s ear, cold despite the fire.

Seb turns around a little, just enough to get one arm around the back of Chris’s shoulders, and raises his eyebrows, saying, “I’m the menace!”

“Yes,” Chris nods, resting his hand on Seb’s thigh and drunkenly admitting, “You’re ruining my life.”

“Likewise,” Seb laughs, pushing the hair back on his head, and leaning down for a quick kiss.

It’s practically nothing - just a quick smack of lips, no more and no less - but Chris feels that telltale creep of warmth daring his dick to get hard. He rests his forehead against Seb’s shoulder as Seb turns back around, relaxing against him and turning his attention back to the fire.

~

The remainder of the night leaves Chris feeling a strange mix of content and nostalgic.

They play stupid drinking games that dropped out of rotation in the college years, listen to Jock Jams I, II and III in their entirety, and dogpile “Chris is so stupid” stories on multiple occasions.

Seb doesn’t bother going back to his seat; Bogey inherits it.

Instead, he leans back against Chris, feet almost off the ground and knees on the outsides of Chris’s thighs. As the sky begins to fade back to dark blue from black, Seb rests his head against the front of Chris’s shoulder, content.

Chris brings a hand up to scratch his nose. When he slides his hands back around Seb’s waist, he follows the lines of Seb’s forearms, over his wrists and the backs of his hands, and tangles his fingers with Seb’s inside of his hoodie pockets.

“Cold,” he murmurs, tilting his nose into Seb’s shoulder again.

He knows his hands are warm. They’ve been wrapped around Seb all night.

Seb lets him have it anyways.

“Better?” Seb asks, looking back a bit, until his nose bumps into Chris’s temple.

Nodding, Chris closes his eyes, and listens to the sound of the fire crackling.

~

Everyone calls it around four.

Bogey takes off to sleep in his car, despite everyone telling him he’ll freeze. Jeannie was the first one to go to bed, so she automatically called the guest room. Which leaves Chris and Seb to…

“It’s actually really comfy,” Christine promises, as they unfold the air mattress in the living room.

Honestly, Chris is not really thinking about comfort after having Seb is his lap all night, but he’ll take what he can get.

“This is great!” Seb exclaims, a little drunk as Chris clicks the built-in pump on and it starts filling with air.

After bestowing a blanket and pillows upon them, Christine takes off to take care of drunk Mike, who has been trying to regulate the fire for the last twenty minutes.

“If this is weird, we can get a hotel,” Chris says quietly, as they spread the blanket over the air mattress.

Smiling, Seb shakes his head and plops the pillows at the head of the mattress, which is butted right up against the couch. He looks a little - he looks a little different than Chris has ever seen him. A little flushed in the cheeks, a little googly-eyed despite his best efforts.

“Your friends are really nice,” is what Seb says out loud.

Chris feels his chest get all warm and gross - oh god, he can’t get all misty eyed while drunk, he’ll start crying and never be able to stop - as he nods.

“Yeah,” he replies, quietly. He smiles and they watch one another over the air mattress for a moment, that strange, late night glow throwing shadows across the walls behind them.

The commotion of Christine and Mike coming back through the kitchen breaks the spell.

“Well - shall we?” Chris asks, tugging the blanket back.

Seb laughs, and kicks his shoes off.

~

Even though he isn’t wasted, Chris is drunk enough to fall asleep almost immediately.

Being the big spoon to Seb’s slightly less big spoon probably helps.

He realizes he’s awake the next morning when he hears muffled voices before his eyes are even open.

Grimacing into the back of Seb’s head - god, it’s so bright in here - Chris stretches a little, trying not to upset the delicate balance of the air mattress.

Actually that’s… he doesn’t really have to worry about that. With two big dudes sleeping on it overnight, the air mattress has deflated enough to have them both safely in the slightly sunken middle. Chris tucks himself into the nape of Seb’s neck, not yet remembering their public location, and makes a content noise.

Seb smells like campfire and cigarette smoke.

He automatically presses himself closer, morning wood happy to be back against Seb, but not totally stoked to be in jeans.

Jeans. He wasn’t that drunk last night was he?

Chris jerks fully awake in a split second, and hazily focuses in on the fireplace mantel directly in front of them. Oh god, there’s Christine and Mike’s last Christmas Sears portrait on the mantel. They took it as a joke but it’s still judging him from its spot beside Mike’s plastic Batman figurine.

“What?” Seb mumbles, still half asleep.

Removing his hand from the front of Seb’s pants, Chris blinks, and tries to relax.

“Nothing,” he manages, pressing a quick kiss to Seb’s shoulder before he vaults off of the air mattress.

~

Christine gives him shit about it, but she’s kind enough to wait until Seb’s in the bathroom.

“Just casual, huh?” she smirks, flipping another pancake.

At the table, Chris, hungover and ill-equipped to be dealing with this line of questioning so early in the morning, manages to reply, “We were cold.”

“That’s how his hand ended up in Seb’s pants, Christine, god,” Mike smirks from the other side of the table, accepting Chris’s immediate middle finger like he’s catching a blown kiss.

~

They hang around until lunch, when driving doesn’t seem like such a hungover chore.

“Hey, thanks again for letting me sleep here,” Chris hears Seb say behind him, as he bounces down the front steps to where his car is parked at the end of the driveway. “I had a really great time.”

Mike is taking a midday nap, so Christine is seeing them back into civilization.

“Oh shut up, no problem,” she tells him, and Chris turns around just in time to catch her giving Seb a hug and adding, “You can come over whenever, you’re great.”

Jesus, Chris isn’t sure what’s worse: impending drunk teary-eyes, or their hungover equivalent.

He watches as Seb laughs and says something he can’t quite make out, and then jams his bag in the trunk to make it seem like he wasn’t eavesdropping. By the time Seb has made his way over to the passenger side door, Chris has managed to reign in the overwhelming urge to profess his love for everything and everyone in his life.

“Ready to go?” he asks, opening his door.

Seb smiles at him from over the top of the car, and replies, “Yeah.”


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't start writing this until like 6PM because I may or may not have been procrastinating + looking at Seb con pictures.

_2014_

New Hampshire in fall is the only thing that comes close to Boston in winter.

“I hate winter!” Seb exclaims, scowling as he looks away from the passenger side window. “Everything’s covered in ice and it’s dark all the time.”

Raising his eyebrows, Chris sounds way more earnest than he means to as he replies, “That’s the best part!”

“The best part is when the sun comes back in April,” Seb counters, easily.

They’re driving upstate for the night, just the two of them and the cheesy B&B Chris booked online a couple days ago. Somehow - through the magic of the dark arts, Chris assumes - their schedules lined up for an entire 48 hours, and they didn’t even realize it until last week.

In a couple days Chris will be in an entirely different country, but for tonight, he’s home. If that’s all he gets for the next month or two or three, it’ll all be worth it.

Everything he does for Seb is.

“Look at that guy!” Seb exclaims, turning around in his seat a little as he watches a wooden sign shaped and painted like a scarecrow fly past. “I think that said pumpkins.”

Ooooh, pumpkins. Chris’s fall boner is dangerously close to reaching full mast.

“You think anyone would recognize us at some backwoods New Hampshire pumpkin patch?” Chris wonders, slowing down a little as they go around a particularly tight curve in the road.

Honestly, nothing beats how pretty the trees are at this time of year. It’s like driving through an oil painting.

“It’s possible,” Seb shrugs, automatically linking his fingers with Chris’s when Chris reaches over the console to hold his hand. “We’re a couple of guys who wanna check out some pumpkins! Nothing suspicious about that.”

Laughing, Chris brings their hands over to rest on his thigh, and agrees, “Just some co-workers out enjoying the country air.”

~

They’ve only been wandering around for five minutes when Seb finds his pumpkin.

“That’s it?” Chris asks, trying not to be horrified.

For whatever reason, Seb has chosen an off-color pumpkin. It’s not quite white and it’s not quite orange. It’s also not quite pumpkin shaped. It’s… well. It’s not really that good looking of a pumpkin.

Chris wonders if he should be worried it’s art imitating life.

“It’s great!” Seb exclaims, grinning to himself as he hoists the pumpkin up and balances it on his palm against his shoulder, “It has character!”

For the last three rows of pumpkins, Chris has walked by ones for being TOO orange, too misshapen, and too hard looking around the top. Picking out the best pumpkin from a sea of misshapen pumpkins is like the best part! Chris can’t believe he’s going to have to put the thing Seb has chosen in his car.

“It’s cool,” he manages, barely keeping a straight face.

~

The pumpkins sit in the backseat for the remainder of their drive to the B&B.

Every time Chris takes a corner a little too tight, his pumpkin rolls and bangs into the door, and Seb laughs. And, of course, every time Chris looks into the rear view mirror, Seb’s pumpkin is still sitting there, lopsided as it ever was and practically flat on one side. Immovable.

By the time they park in the little ivy covered car port at the B&B, Chris’s pumpkin is looking a little worse for wear.

“It’s fine,” Seb promises, trying not to laugh as he uprights the pumpkin. “He’s still alive!”

Chris smacks a kiss to the side of Seb’s head when he leans close, and then unbuckles his seatbelt and heads up the short set of red brick stairs.

It takes fifteen minutes to talk to the old couple that run the place and figure out what’s going on. Chris doesn’t want to open any more conversational doors than he has to when he and Seb are on limited time already - he feels a little bit like Indiana Jones by the time he emerges with their keys for the night.

By the time they get to their room - aka the guest house at the very back end of the property - the sun is just beginning to set, and Chris is ready to go into hibernation for the rest of the night.

The guest house is… well. It’s ridiculous. It’s super old timey and weird, which Chris should have realized it would be when an online review described the bedroom as “handsome.” Seb cracks up at the creepy colonial four poster bed they’ll be banging on later in the night, and then takes a picture of the framed swan painting hanging above it.

“I love this place,” Seb reviews, laughing a little bit as he starts opening drawers and closet doors.

Chris leaves him to it and gets a fire going in the other room, mostly because Seb rummaging through things drives him crazy.

By the time the fire is right and the only thing Seb has discovered is a weird sachet of dried lavender bits at the bottom of a dresser, Chris is dying to get his snug on. It’s only been a couple of weeks since they last saw each other - it’s historically nothing - but it’s getting harder and harder to go for longer periods of time.

The fact that they are technically (technically) still keeping it casual is making less and less sense to Chris every time he sees Seb’s stupid beautiful face.

“Get over here,” Chris grins, tugging Seb down on top of him.

Seb flops into his lap easily, one arm going around the back of Chris’s neck. As the antique sofa creaks underneath their combined weight, he laughs, “I don’t think this couch likes us.”

They relax in front of the fire for a while - a long time, actually. Chris finds himself dozing even with Seb spread out on top of him. Neither of them move until it turns pitch black outside, and Chris gets up to close the blinds. He’s seen enough horror movies to know that’s just something you do when you’re out in the woods.

“I wish we had time to carve our pumpkins,” Seb muses, as Chris reaches down, tugging him up from the couch.

Chris kisses his cheek, and then his jaw, and then noses his way down his neck, promising, “Next year,” as he goes.

~

The night goes by fast: it always does when they know they’re on limited time.

“I miss you sometimes,” Chris admits into the dark, mouth moving against Seb’s hair.

It’s scary. The moments when he works up enough nerve to say something out loud terrify him, but it’s been such a long time and every day they’re together it gets easier and easier to toe the line.

Half asleep and fucked out, Seb rubs his face against Chris’s arm, and whispers back, “I’m right here.”

~

The next morning is hazy, fog trailing in across the yard as they pack their shit back into the car.

Chris runs back into the house to drop off they keys and decline breakfast, despite it being in the name he’s not interested in making small talk with strangers over scrambled eggs and ~local bacon. 

By the time he makes it back outside, Seb is already locked and loaded in the front seat.

It’s hard not to smile at that.

“Let’s get out of here,” he grins, watching as Chris settles back in behind the wheel.

Chris smiles back, sidetracked for a second before he starts the engine and says, “We should find a lookout, I bet there’s one close by.”

“What the hell is that?” Seb asks, as they bump down the long gravel driveway that leads back to the main road. It rained overnight, so everything is soggy and wet; pretty in that morning after the war type way.

“Seb,” Chris scoffs, immediately doing 80 along the deserted road. “Come on.”

Laughing, Seb raises his eyebrows and swears, “I don’t know what that is!”

It takes half an hour to find the closest one, with absolutely no help from Siri, the silly bitch. The one they end up at is in Weeks State Park, so Chris parks and kills the engine there. Luckily it’s early enough in the morning to not be overrun with tourists, even though there is still the lingering haze of fog.

“Spookytown,” Chris comments, looking around with his hands in his pockets.

They wander down the little path side by side, bumping shoulders as they go, until they reach a gigantic historical plaque. While Chris stands there reading it, Seb wanders around, checking out the names on each ‘Dedicated to’ bench and taking pictures of the trees.

“Wow, this guy saved New England’s forests,” Chris summarizes, squinting into the distance as he wanders up behind Seb. “Before he was around, they were cutting everything down and causing mudslides and shit. Crazy.”

Seb laughs, giving him one of those sneaky side smiles that melt Chris’s stomach to butter every time.

“What?” Chris grins, raising his eyebrows.

“Nothing,” Seb manages, still laughing a little as he shakes his head and says, “I like your trivia.”

“I got trivia for daaaays,” Chris replies, putting on a stupid voice and knotting his eyebrows.

Cracking up again, Seb shakes his head and moves away, says, “Nevermind, I’m over you.”


	5. Five

_2011_

You know, Sebastian wasn’t scared of many things growing up.

It was hard to be. The world - the country - was already fucked up before he came along, and by the time he was a young kid, the wheels had long been set in motion. Back then, if you were scared, you didn’t fight; if you didn’t fight, you didn’t get food.

He remembers his mom waiting in a line forty people deep for a ration of cooking oil. Even as a kid, being scared of the boogeyman seemed meaningless when the real thing was lurking around every corner.

The older Sebastian got - and the further he moved away from home - he began to understand things like fear and regret and wanting for something else. Three separate feelings that constantly came intertwined: fear of the unknown, regret of the road not taken, and wanting for something he could never reasonably have.

In middle school, he felt it for the first time after watching a girl - The Girl - he had been bracing himself to ask to prom, as she walked through the halls holding onto some other guy’s hand.

That buoyancy before the fall. The sick, clammy feeling that always followed.

Seb’s looking through the racks at a thrift store when he is suddenly, immediately, back in that moment.

“Hey, that’s pretty sweet, man,” Charles says over his shoulder, eyeing the vintage skeleton mask Seb’s holding in one hand. “Looks old and shit.”

They’re looking for Halloween costumes. It’s been a lot of fun so far. If Seb holds onto this thing any harder, he’s going to snap the plastic.

He stares down at the eyeless, faceless skeleton mask like he’s seen a ghost.

“Yeah,” he manages, kickstarting back to life, spinning dirt as he jams the item back onto the rack. “Not really my style, though.”

~

It’s strange, being this new person who is also himself.

Everything in his life is now earmarked by the movie: by pre-production and training, shooting and wrapping and Chris. The nights he remembers most, he realizes now, are the premieres and the press events.

It’s funny how things work out. How the little things become everything and then nothing again.

This thing with Chris - this thing he used to have with Chris - it lived in the shadows. There was no way something like that could reach the sunlight and survive. Knowing that, understanding that, was what made sitting in the dark of the theatre such a relief. Sebastian could let his guard down alongside a hundred critics and fans, and be starry-eyed, even if it was only for a minute.

He could look at Chris, with his face lit up and angled and fifty feet tall, and he could watch him run through Brooklyn streets built on a backlot in Atlanta, and he could think to himself, this won’t last forever.

It wasn’t as easy to do that in the sunlight, in the spotlight, where Chris always seemed to wait. It was warm there, but it wasn’t meant for Seb.

God, Sebastian thinks, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Please nobody ever find out about the skeletons in his closet. 

The last time he saw Chris, at least two months ago now, is all a blur. Sebastian barely remembers it, it was such a fast, rushed goodbye. Like Chris - for whatever reason - seemed to think he might see Seb again.

Like their relationship, or lack thereof, was something that had earned the right to go on.

Sebastian thinks about the probability of a character recovering after falling off a speeding freight train, and doesn’t find it likely.

Frowning, Seb rubs his face with both hands, picks up his coffee and his phone, and heads towards the living room. He’s got nothing to do tonight, other than smoking a little of the new indica his weed guy recommended, and watching the stack of movies he’s been meaning to get through for weeks.

Seb rests his coffee on a stack of unread scripts, and sits in the middle of his couch.

Thinking about going back for a sequel is fucking with him. Sure, he’s already heard it’s a distinct possibility, but his character isn’t exactly a focal point in the little information he’s heard. Sometimes it seems like the internet knows more than he does.

You know, actually - Chris would probably know something. Feige seemed to have some kind of straight guy crush on him, so he always got the good stuff first. Seb looks at the dimmed screen of his cellphone warily.

Even if another Cap movie got greenlit, could he really deal with being in that kind of bubble with Chris for a second time?

Sebastian thinks about the skeleton mask he exhumed yesterday. How such a plain looking, insignificant item at some overpriced vintage store in the East Village could get to him like that; turning him weightless and sick, just because it dared remind him of Chris’s time in his life at all.

You just never know how things are gonna affect you. How experiences will imprint and change who you are, with or without your permission. Sebastian has only been part of one other movie since stepping into the Marvel machine, but even then, he found himself looking for Chris every time the lights came up on set.

He was never there. The coil of fear and wanting in Seb’s chest never unwound itself.

Chris was neither the cause of nor the solution to any of Sebastian’s problems, but god, did he ever make Seb feel not so lonely in the meantime.

~

It’s two nights before Halloween, and Seb is stoned and hanging out his fifth floor walk up window.

Against the party gods wishes, Halloween has fallen on a Monday this year - which means New York City is out in full costume tonight. Manhattan in particular is alive and well, its inhabitants hitting bars and clubs and private loft parties, depending on the social circle.

Seb is nowhere, on purpose, just for one night.

This time last year he was in Europe, blissfully unaware of the dust and cobwebs he was meticulously setting up for his future self to come home to. 

He remembers everything from that day. They wrapped early because of the rain. He and Chris and Hayley ate in the food services tent, mostly because the hotel they were living out of only served things like mashed potatoes and gravy and sausage - something they’d only drunkenly partaken in a time or two.

Everyone was planning to meet up at the bar later, so on the way back to the hotel, Chris talked him into throwing some last minute costumes together.

There were only children's costumes and leftovers at the one store they went to, but they made it work.

When they turned up at the bar that night, their crew - crowded around a pub table - burst into cheers, laughing and clapping as the two of them settled in. All they’d been able to find at the store was a mega pack of face paint, so they’d opted for simplicity: Seb a red devil, and Chris a black and white skeleton.

Sebastian even slicked his hair back, and then sprayed it black. Sure the hair department would hate him on Monday, but it was worth it to be the devil on Chris’s shoulder for one night.

By the end of the night Chris had so much red paint on his face, everyone must have known what was going on.

Seb exhales smoke and coughs a little, watching as a group of girls in tight black cat costumes cross the street below, hands linked. He doesn’t think he could be out there tonight. He just doesn’t have the nerve.

Not when last year still seems so close, Chris right there in his memory, almost near enough to touch.

~

He’s fucked up and going to bed an hour later when his phone vibrates.

His friends have been texting him all night - where are you, why don’t you come out, we have bottle service and lots of candy - but he hasn’t replied. The thing about keeping something secret is you can’t share the resounding heartbreak with those that are closest to you.

Sebastian isn’t sure whether that makes it easier or harder sometimes.

Frowning, Seb picks up his phone and flips it over, squinting at the bright screen as he slides the message open.

It’s a picture, first. If finding that skeleton mask the other day sent Seb stumbling back a year, then seeing the real thing is that much worse. He remembers this picture being taken like it happened yesterday. They’re at the bar - you can see some of the crew drinking in the background - and suddenly the memory is so palpably close, Seb can practically close his eyes and be there again.

He and Chris are both smiling at the camera. Seb’s eyes are so wrinkled up they look closed, but it’s hard to tell with all the makeup. Chris looks stupid as usual - for such a hot guy he really is one of the least photogenic people Seb has ever met, to this day - but god, stupid or not it makes Seb’s chest ache just to see that face again.

Underneath the picture, it says, _Good times, right?_

Seb frowns - good times? Good fucking times? That’s all he gets after three months of absolutely nothing, of thinking about the way they left things every single day, whether he wants to or not? After maybe, just, just getting over it, and then flooring himself by running into something like that stupid skeleton mask, and instantly being reset to square one?

Fuck you, Chris, Seb thinks viciously, turning the screen off. He rolls over and yanks the blanket up over his shoulder, jamming his head into his pillow.

He’s too riled up to sleep now. He’s mad at himself that three words from Chris can affect him more than anything else has in as many months. 

Seb lays there for a long time, rolling the text around in his mind. Chris is probably just drunk. He’s probably out with his friends, like a normal person, wasted and lonely and wanting that connection back, even if it’s only through one text message sent in the middle of the night.

He can hardly blame Chris for that.

Seb sighs and reaches for his phone again. Chris hasn’t sent him a follow up message or anything like that in the half an hour he’s been stewing in his own thoughts.

Frowning, Seb types out a quick reply, and shelves his phone before he gets the idea to do something really stupid.

_Haha yeah, good times._

Skeletons aren’t supposed to come back to life.


	6. Six

_2014_

If there’s one thing Chris wishes he still had, it’d probably be the anonymity to date.

Not that he’s a man about town or anything like that - whether he’s ready to admit it to himself or anyone else, the only person he’s had in his bed recently is Seb - there’s just something about the wining and dining that Chris deeply misses, and wishes he could give to Seb.

This, however, seems like they might be pushing their luck.

“Remember our first Halloween?” Seb grins, standing behind the kitchen counter in his brownstone.

Chris, on the uncomfortable couch across the room, raises one eyebrow.

“I’m listening,” he says.

“Put some black clothes on, baby,” Seb announces, pulling two things out of the bag - a devil mask, and a skeleton mask. He holds one in each hand and grins, “We’re going out.”

~

Chris did not actually bring any black clothes to New York.

He’s only here for two days, so he brought his usual attire: a henley and some jeans. Usually when he’s in Manhattan he isn’t wearing clothes, anyways.

Luckily Seb seems happy to loan him one of his shirts.

“This is way too small,” Chris complains, trying to tug the hem back down over his waistband. If he raises his arms up too high, the garment very quickly becomes a belly top.

On the other side of the bedroom, Seb buttons and zips up his black jeans, then laughs, “All of your clothes are way too small.”

“I’m modest,” Chris lies, laughing when Seb gives him the saltiest ‘whatever pal’ face on earth.

~

The masks are completely ridiculous - they look like they’re about to rob a bank or something.

“It’ll be worth it,” Seb promises, voice muffled behind the cheap plastic. “Trust me.”

Chris has no idea where they’re going. He’s a little suspicious and a lot boned up, mostly because they haven’t seen each other in a week and it seems like they’re about to get into some sexy trouble together.

When Seb rolls up to a red light bar a couple of blocks away from his apartment, Chris figures he’s got the wrong place at first.

“Come on,” Seb says, heading towards the door.

You know, or not.

Chris follows along behind Seb closely, accidentally bumping into him with his dick when they have to stop to pay cover and show their IDs. They lift their masks for a second, just long enough to show their faces match their IDs, and then Seb pays the ridiculous Halloween night cover charge for both of them.

As they make their way inside, Seb pushes his wallet into his back pocket with one hand, and winds his free arm around Chris’s waist.

Chris definitely assumed this was a bar at first, but he realizes now it’s actually a club. Everyone is in various stages of Halloween undress, too, which makes it less scary - he and Seb are hardly out of place with their masks on.

As they make their way down the main hallway, Seb takes the lead, holding Chris’s hand when they have to separate to walk through a narrow corridor.

Chris realizes what’s about to go down as soon as they’re inside the belly of the club.

He might also get a little dizzy from the amount of blood that suddenly re-routes from his brain to his dick.

The club is packed. It doesn’t even seem real at first, there are so many people on the dance floor and by the bar trying to get drinks. Everyone is in some kind of costume, too, even though nobody is dressed the way they are, just a couple of complimentary weirdos in masks and jeans.

As Seb leads them into the crowd, Chris reaches for him automatically, sliding both of his arms under Seb’s, and wrapping them around Seb’s chest. Seb automatically brings one hand up to hold on to Chris’s arm as they walk. Luckily it’s so late in the night, most of the people they squish by are already wasted - too drunk or fucked up to care.

Once they’re submerged in the crowd, Seb lets go of Chris’s forearm, and turns around.

They’re both already hard. Chris has been dealing with a semi since they were at Seb’s place earlier, and the thought of getting all up in Seb in public has done nothing to calm him down.

Pretty much the opposite, actually.

The bass is so loud, Chris can feel the music throbbing through his chest as he rests one arm around Seb’s shoulders and moves them together. There’s lots of shit he’s bad at, but dancing isn’t one of those things.

Jesus, it’s immediately satisfying to fuck around like this with other humans nearby. Chris’s boner likes the idea of being the only one in town who gets to grind up on Seb like this, despite the multiple interested parties who have already thrown one or both of them glances since their arrival. He’s not a caveman or anything, but there’s something recklessly attractive about the idea of showing off.

This mask is giving him all kinds of ideas he’s never considered before.

Dancing is just like fucking, really - and that’s something they’re good at, regardless of what else is going on. Chris drops his forehead to Seb’s shoulder, the inside of his mask bumping against the bridge of his nose, and closes his eyes as they set up a good grinding rhythm that has their dicks right beside each other.

Fuck, he doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to last here. They’ve been in this club for five minutes and he’s ready to get his cock out.

Seb runs his fingers through the hair at the crown of Chris’s head, bumping over the elastic band holding the mask to Chris’s face. The mask is making all of his sexy dreams come true while doing a really good job of shutting down any and all ability to get his mouth on Seb.

Which is not optimal.

As they grind - because that’s what they’re doing, now, no dance or skill or musical rhythm involved at this point - Seb rests his other hand on Chris’s hip, tugging them together faster, holding Chris steady so he can grind against his thigh.

Without thinking, Chris drops his hand down and palms Seb through his jeans, groaning into his stupid mask as Seb’s fingers tighten in his hair, pressing them closer.

Chris’s higher thoughts have retired for the night, leaving his brain foggy and dick drunk. God, he’s gotta get some of that ass. He’s so hard, the only thing that makes sense is pressing all up against Seb. As the song fades into another bassy mix, Chris reaches around and works both hands into the back of Seb’s pants.

God, when he dies please let him take all memories of this butt with him to the afterlife.

Seb is still moving against him, one hand rubbing Chris through the front of his jeans. Chris tilts his head back until the club lights blind him, thinks _help me satan_ , and tilts his head into it when Seb bumps Chris’s shoulder with his mask.

It’s automatic to expect a kiss to follow Seb’s movement, and it’s weird when all Chris feels is plastic against the part of his shoulder where his shirt’s been pulled down.

They’ve been here for twenty minutes, probably - it’s hard to know for sure when all the songs fade into one another and Chris’s train of thought stops at his dick - and they’re getting a little sweaty now. Chris can feel it at the edges of his hairline, and creeping down the back of his shirt. When he slides his hands out of Seb’s pants and up under his shirt instead, he can feel how hot Seb is, too.

If Chris weren’t wearing this mask, he’d definitely lean forward and get his mouth all up on that.

Seb follows Chris’s hand with his own, pulling it out of the back of his shirt and sliding it up the front instead. When Chris’s fingers bump up against Seb’s pec, he knows what’s going down. He rubs at Seb’s nipple with his thumb, and pulls him closer with his opposite hand on the small of Seb’s back.

He doesn’t realize what Seb’s game plan is until Seb turns around, shirt all pushed up around his chest as Chris’s hand gets caught in it. Jesus, Chris thinks, automatically wrapping his free arm around Seb’s middle. He pulls Seb backwards, tight, until he’s practically riding Chris’s dick through his jeans.

All of a sudden, the very real possibility of coming in his pants hits Chris like a brick to the side of the head. If they stay here much longer he’s going to do something very stupid, like take his face or his dick out.

Seb, fuck him, grinds back on Chris’s hard-on. Chris groans into his mask like an idiot - honestly, the only thing that would make it better is if Seb was wearing sweatpants.

“We need to go,” Chris yells, leaning down so his mouth is near Seb’s ear.

He runs his hand over Seb’s stomach, and then belatedly tries to tug his shirt back into place.

Seb tilts his head back a bit, indicating he didn’t hear what Chris said, and reaches one hand over his shoulder to tug Chris closer by the back of the head.

“We gotta leave,” Chris tries again, mouth practically against Seb’s ear. This time he accidentally catches eyes with some guy who’s staring at Seb from a couple feet away.

Chris frowns automatically.

Nodding, Seb turns back around, and wraps one arm around Chris’s middle as they make their way back out of the crowd.

~

Outside feels so cold compared to the inside of the club, which actually helps with the bone situation.

Endorphin drunk and bold from the masks, they hold hands as they make their way back to Seb’s place.

Nobody on the street cares about them - everyone is either yelling at their significant other outside a cab, or smoking cigarettes at the curb outside the bar. By the time they’re standing in front of Seb’s door, Chris is trying very hard to keep his hands to himself.

Obviously he’s failing. That’s why he’s got one hand practically down the back of Seb’s jeans.

The door pops open once Seb gets it unlocked, and slams back against the inside wall as they stagger inside. Seb takes two steps into his front hallway before turning back around, and pushing Chris up against the inside of the door.

As the door clicks shut underneath his weight, Chris whips his mask off and practically throws it over Seb’s shoulder.

Seb doesn’t even have the mask all the way off his face before they’re kissing, deep and hot and desperate.

Chris has never kissed someone this way before in his entire life.

~

They end up fucking in the bathroom.

Not because it’s a great place to have sex, but because Chris went in there for a condom, and Seb ambushed him in the process. They fuck with Seb propped up against the sink, shirt pushed up under his armpits so Chris can get at his chest and back.

It doesn’t last long. Chris comes hard and sloppy, and accidentally knocks Seb’s knees into the cupboard doors as he flops over his back, face hidden in the nape of Seb’s neck. When Seb finishes, Chris fucks him through it as best he can, swearing and shaking from the overstimulation.

“Oh god,” Seb pants afterwards, eyes closed as he blindly reaches for Chris, dropping back against the curve of his shoulder.

Chris stands there, braindead and trying to catch his breath, and kisses the side of Seb’s face lest he fall down.


	7. Seven

_2019_

Here’s the thing about Chris’s life post coming out of the closet:

Honestly, first of all he never realized how many events Seb attends. Ten years he’s known the guy, and he didn’t put it together until it was his name on the plus one line. Second of all, he kind of feels like a trophy wife and - thirdly - he’s surprised that he’s into it.

“I like the blue,” Chris comments, looking down at what Seb is doing to his sleeve.

Seb pushes up from his knees, brushing a piece of lint or something off of Chris’s thigh as he goes.

“You look handsome as hell,” he says, although he directs his compliment to Chris’s chest.

Laughing, Chris looks down at the top of Seb’s head, and asks, “Are you talking to me or the suit?”

“Yes,” Seb replies, grinning as he stands up properly to give Chris a kiss.

~

Galas are really not Chris’s scene, but if they were, he’d totally be into this one.

It’s Halloween themed - being October 29th and all - and as they walk through the main reception area, Chris can’t help but ooh and ahh and point up at the intricate spider webs hanging from the ceilings.

“Wow,” he says again, as they make their way into the main presentation room. There’s a gigantic three tier table set up at the side of the room, and there’s gotta be at least fifty pumpkins loaded onto it, all carved and flickering with light. “Babe, check that out.”

As they make their way between tables to their seats, Chris keeps a hand on the small of Seb’s back so he doesn’t get lost.

“Hey,” Seb smiles, looking back at Chris as they reach their table, “We’re right near Pumpkin City!”

The gala presentation is long and boring - Chris can appreciate the cause, but not sitting through a bunch of people patting themselves on the back with one hand while asking for money with the other - and the food is good.

Halfway through the same lady talking for half an hour, Seb leans back in his seat and reaches for Chris’s hand, holding it in his lap as he concentrates on what she’s saying.

Chris runs his thumb back and forth over Seb’s knuckles, and looks back at the stage too.

~

By the time they get home again, it’s way past midnight and Chris is the proud new owner of a handful of photobooth strips.

They had way too many Halloween props on hand for Chris to turn down taking advantage. There are a couple not so good ones - like the first couple frames where he’s mid-speech, wondering how the booth worked - but the rest are great. He particularly likes the one where Seb has plastic fangs.

The house is pretty empty still - the buying process was long and arduous and they only moved in a couple of weeks ago - but Chris props the photobooth strips up on the living room mantel anyway, loosening his tie as he does so.

Nine years ago, they were drunkenly hooking up three thousand miles away from home. Now, Chris can’t imagine his life without the guy.

As he steps away from the fireplace, Seb comes in, already half out of his suit.

“Thanks for being my date,” he says, snugging up against Chris’s back.

Smiling, Chris reaches back to get one arm around him, and replies, “Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying this, let me know!


	8. Eight

_2012_

Chris is having a very bad day.

Everything is getting under his skin. From the PVR not recording last night’s Patriots game, to the dickhead who cut him off in traffic earlier. Sure, Chris might have been on his way to having breakfast with his brother, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t rear-end a car or two out of spite.

Frowning, he tosses his weed onto the coffee table, and stands there patting himself down for a lighter.

There is no lighter to be found, of course. That’s how he finds himself rummaging around in the front closet, sticking his hand in every jacket pocket he owns.

It’s the last Saturday before Halloween, and his only plans for the night involve booze and not dressing up. He’s got an approximate six hour window before he’s expected to turn up at Mike’s, and he plans on spending it getting baked, playing video games, and hanging out with his dog.

Lighter in hand, Chris heads back across the room, and taps the Xbox on with his big toe as he goes.

East is passed out on his end of the couch, face twitching as he dreams with his lip all inside out and stuck up against the leather arm. It’s just enough to melt Chris’s heart a little, however fleeting that change in temperature may be.

With a sigh, Chris flops down into the middle cushion, and bends forward to roll a joint.

This time of the year is starting to get to him, man. He can feel it creeping in his bones like the cold.

He rolls his joint and sets his game up, and then he wanders outside to his little iron balcony to smoke it, letting the door click shut behind him. Someone bought him a Patriots camping chair last Christmas as a gag gift, but jokes on them because he sits in this fucker on the regular.

Chris lights up and pulls his phone out, then glances back over his shoulder when East growls at him from the other side of the door, eyes red and droopy with sleep. He pushes his nose up against the lowest glass pane, and fogs it up with his breath.

“Go lay down buddy,” Chris calls through the glass, coughing as he exhales.

East stares at him, silently judging, and then turns around and wanders back to bed.

This weed is strong, good god. Chris flips open his email, looking for the Facebook invite to this party he’s going to tonight, and crosses one leg over the other. As he scrolls through his messages, he accidentally highlights an email from production.

 _Production,_ he thinks to himself dramatically.

Training starts in January - Chris has known that for weeks now - and it’s getting harder and harder to pretend Sebastian won’t be there as more details roll out. He’s read the script, and he knows what the next year of his life looks like.

It sure doesn’t include the familiarity of hiding out in Boston while he licks his wounds.

Instead, he’ll have the pleasure of learning hand-to-hand combat with the man who accidentally broke his heart.

Jesus, it’s been… a long time.

They haven’t seen one another since the promo tour for the first movie ended - not that Chris hasn’t tried. It’s different, looking back at everything now. It makes him feel dumb. In retrospect, he can identify the exact moment when the road they were on together - however temporarily - split in two.

Sebastian pulled away from him so slowly, so incrementally, Chris hadn’t realized it was happening at all.

He doesn’t remember walking away from Sebastian for the last time, either. He doesn’t remember how his face looked, or what he said, or what they were doing. If Chris could do it again, he’d take as long as he could to remember.

Maybe if Chris had known that was it, he would have said - something.

But there’s no use thinking about that now.

Grimacing, Chris squints down at the road below. They’ve talked twice since then. There was last Halloween, where Chris got a succinct _Haha yeah, good times_ as a reply. That hurt a little. He definitely felt the pinch from that one.

The last time they spoke was in January, when Chris was in New York for a week on business. Yeah, he remembers that like it was yesterday. That one fucking stung, and he knows Sebastian must have realized it, because he never responded to Chris’s last message.

All it said was _Haha yeah maybe I’ll see you around._ All flippant and shit.

Put those texts side by side, and they might as well be perfect guys for one another.

Chris has been aimlessly scrolling through his emails for so long he’s now back in July. Sighing, he turns his phone screen off, and sets it in the cup holder built into the chair.

Holding back from an even shittier response had been an exercise in control. Ooh, Chris can still feel that kneejerk reaction if he tries hard enough. That _fine, fuck you right back._ He still feels stupid about how hard he tried.

Getting over their non-relationship has been one of the harder things Chris has had to deal with in his adult life, but it’s not like Sebastian ever owed him any kind of closure.

He doesn’t owe Chris anything. And that’s why Chris takes it out on himself when he can.

~

He rolls up to Mike’s just after nine, when the party is already in full swing.

“Hey!” Bogey yells over the music when he spots Chris, “Beer’s in the tub!”

Chris makes his way to the bathroom, dodging some guy dressed up with a gigantic paper mache Conan head as he goes.

~

Being around friends is good for him.

It’s even better when he and Bogey win a bracket of beer pong.

“Suck on these nuts!” Bogey shouts, throwing one arm around Chris’s shoulders.

Chris laughs and grabs his chest, cackling as Jeannie gives them both the middle finger before tossing her mouthful of beer back.

“Let’s get shots, buddy,” Bogey says right in Chris’s ear, pulling a cigarette out from behind his.

Still grinning, Chris wraps his arm around Bogey’s waist, and they make their way into the kitchen.

Bogey’s kind of a fucking fool, but a smart one. He’s one of the only people in their group to graduate with an actual useful degree - Systems Engineering, if you can goddamn believe it - even though you’d never know it by looking at him.

They pour fresh drinks and steal a couple of Jello shots before making their way out to the backyard.

“Here you go, man,” Bogey says, offering Chris a cigarette straight from the pack.

Chris shuffles his things around, until he’s holding his beer and both shots in his left hand, and accepts the cigarette from Bogey with a, “Thanks.”

“You got much planned next month?” Bogey asks, as they find an empty spot and line their shit up on the porch railing.

Without speaking, they each pick up a Jello shot and cheers before sucking them back.

“No,” Chris manages, cringing through the bite of cheap vodka. He takes a sip of his beer as chase and accepts the lighter when Bogey hands it to him. “Aside from the gym, anyway. Why, what’s up?”

Bogey sucks sharp on his cigarette, face crinkling up before he replies, “I’m going to New York.”

Oh. There’s that feeling again. Chris reaches for the other shot.

“Big contract?” he asks, cringing again as he sucks the boozy Jello back.

“Yeah,” Bogey nods, before spitting over the railing. A real class act guy. “I’m working with some law firm. Reeeal interesting stuff.”

Chris inhales a drag, and shrugs, “It’s interesting to me.”

“You wanna come with?” Bogey asks, arching one eyebrow.

Jesus. Chris is pretty sure his face does something before he can stop it, because Bogey snorts at him and spits off the balcony again.

“Christine’s gonna murder you,” Chris smiles, and then, “But no, count me out for New York.”

“You know, man…” Bogey starts, before trailing off. He looks at Chris carefully, like he knows way more than the class clown has any reason to, before he says, “One day you’re gonna have to tell us what happened.”

Laughing in surprise, Chris arches one eyebrow, and says, “That day is not today.”

~

Maybe he’s had one drink too many by the time the shots kick in.

Bleary-eyed, Chris rolls through the party, slapping shoulders and laughing as he makes his way through the crowd.

He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about New York since Bogey brought it up.

Fuck, he feels dumb. God, there’s that feeling he’s been running from all year. He drunkenly flirts with some guy Jeannie invited, because it’s fun and it doesn’t hurt.

Chris can get any guy he wants.

He’s never going to chase Sebastian down again.


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SLEEPY BEAR'S RETURN

_2015_

Chris wakes up to his phone vibrating against the mattress.

“Who the,” he mutters, disoriented as he blinks and squints over at the hotel alarm clock.

3:33 AM. The devil’s hour. Chris stretches across the bed - there’s only person who would be Facetiming him now, emergency aside - and drags his phone closer by the charge cord, squinting down into the bright light of the screen as he answers with one hand.

“Babe,” he greets, voice rough from only getting a couple hours sleep. “What’s up?”

On screen, Seb is getting out of a car which Chris assumes is his Uber. Still a little disoriented, Chris rubs at his sleepy face, and listens as Seb climbs out of the back seat.

“Hey yourself,” Seb replies, totally fucking drunk and a little out of breath.

It’s mostly dark as Seb buzzes himself through the gate of Chris’s place in LA, but the sounds are all familiar. Chris can just make out the bright white priest collar around Seb’s neck, and the earbud wires hanging down either side of his jaw.

“How are you?” Chris asks, reaching for the lamp. As he clicks it on and squints, he adds, “I miss you.”

He’s been in Atlanta for the last couple weeks shooting this movie. It’s totally weird to be working in Georgia on something that isn’t Cap related, but it’s especially strange to be kicking around town without Seb.

“Back at you, sweetheart,” Seb laughs, accidentally yanking an earbud out of his ear as he pats himself down for his house keys.

They texted a bit earlier, when Chris was out at the bar having a beer with a couple crew guys. Seb sent him a selfie of his costume, both before and after consuming copious amounts of alcohol, and then Chris fell asleep watching the news.

Exciting lives of the very rich and famous.

“You’re home early,” he comments, as he realizes it’s only midnight in LA.

Seb grimaces, shouldering the front door closed as he kicks off his shoes. It makes Chris simultaneously happy and homesick to see Seb against the familiar backdrop of his house when he’s nine states away.

“I’m _drunk_ ,” Seb complains, unplugging his earbuds and tossing them down onto the hall table along with his keys.

Laughing, Chris sits up and leans back against the headboard. From the angle Seb is holding his phone, all Chris can see is a good six chins and the tip of his nose.

“My poor guy,” he smiles, watching as Seb tries to wrestle one arm out of his suit jacket, which was definitely tailored for a more standard issue Seb. As Seb gets one arm free, Chris immediately starts cracking up when he realizes the shirt-and-collar combo is sleeveless. He exclaims, “What kind of priest are you?!”

Seb cackles a little, still struggling the rest of the way out of his jacket, whipping his arm to try and get it off of his wrist. A little out of breath, he asks, “Why, you wanna confess something?”

“No thanks,” Chris laughs, watching as Seb finally frees himself from his suit jacket, and delicately hangs it over the railing.

“Babe,” Seb sighs, loosening his collar, “if I got any fatter I would have had to sew myself in.”

“What!” Chris cackles, leaning forward to squint closer at the screen.

Without prompting, Seb drunkenly holds his phone up over his shoulder and turns around, so Chris can see the back of his outfit in the hall mirror. It is… maybe a size or two too small. There’s a cheap velcro snap fastened at the back of Seb’s neck - which is barely hanging on for dear life - and a couple inches of fabric gaping open below it.

Chris immediately understands why the suit jacket was deemed necessary.

“How are you in that!” he laughs, amazed and also kind of into it as he watches Seb reach back over one shoulder, struggling to get at the velcro snap that may also be safety pinned together. “Wow, Seb.”

“I gotta put you down,” Seb says unnecessarily, face all of a sudden really super close to the screen before all Chris sees is the ceiling.

When Seb comes back a minute later, he’s shirtless and Chris can’t tell what the pants situation is.

“Show me what’s happening,” Chris demands, as Seb makes his way towards the kitchen.

Without hesitation, Seb holds his phone out and down so Chris can get a good look at the current dick situation. Seb’s still wearing his pants, but he’s unzipped the fly for comfort so they’re barely hanging on.

Seb - presumably - goes to bring the phone back to his face, but ends up fumbling it instead. Chris lands against the floor with a crash.

“Oh god,” Seb manages, drunkenly sliding the phone along the floor for a few inches before he manages to pick it up again. Chris gets about half a second of concerned face, before Seb’s eyebrows arch up as he looks it over and declares, “It’s fine."

“Jesus,” Chris complains, holding onto one boob.

“It’s fiiiiiine,” Seb continues, smacking the kitchen light on and pouring himself a glass of water, hoping to appease the hangover gods. He also forgets he’s holding his phone, so Chris hangs out at nipple height while Seb chugs the water.

That alone is worth being woken up in the middle of the night for.

Chris continues to watch Seb’s eternally hard nips while Seb shuffles around the kitchen. He laughs when Seb takes the corner of the island a little too sharp in that overcompensating while drunk kind of way, and then listens as the fridge door opens and closes.

When Seb comes back on screen, he’s opening a box of leftover pizza.

“I can’t believe I’m going to bed at midnight,” he complains, stacking three slices on top of each other before making his way out of the kitchen.

Chris watches as Seb staggers up the stairs towards their bedroom, and says, “Aw babe.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Seb replies, looking at his pizza.

Chris laughs again, and watches as Seb sticks a pizza slice in his mouth. He manages to take a bite without letting go of the other two slices, or his phone. 

“I’m gonna put you and my food on the bed for a minute,” Seb warns, and then Chris is looking at the ceiling again while Seb takes off to go pee and presumably lose his pants. Chris yawns and scratches his chest, and then watches as Seb flops back into bed and says, “Gimme some dick.”

“Hey!” Chris grins, squinting down at Seb, “Take it easy! I just woke up.”

“I’m gonna take it hard,” Seb corrects, eating his pizza. He flops onto his back, props his phone up in one hand, and raises his eyebrows, waiting.

That’s a hot face. He misses that face.

Chris shifts his hips against the mattress, and says, “You gotta make it worth my while.”

“Oh I do, huh?” Seb asks.

Resting one hand over his dick, Chris replies, “I think so, yeah.”

“He thinks so,” Seb drunkenly teases, extending his arm so Chris can get a load of that chest.

Damn, that’s his favorite thing. Well his second favorite thing. Third if you count personality.

“Push em together,” he grins, and then cracks up when Seb brings his elbows forward so his pecs squeeze together. Chris could do without the pizza hanging handsless out of Seb’s mouth, but it gets his boner going either way. “There’s my guy.”

Seb gives him a little more nip action before he brings his phone super close to his face, and says, “Now give me my guy.”

What’s fair is fair.

Chris flips the hotel blanket off and kicks his legs out, one sweatpant cuff stuck up around his calf.

He rubs himself through his sweatpants, one hand on his dick and the other around his phone as he tries to figure out the best way to hold it.

“Prop me up on something,” Seb recommends, always the director.

They’ve Facetimed enough now that Chris is starting to know all the tricks. He grabs the pillow he isn’t using and hits it a few times, making a little dented nest for his phone to rest in, and sets it against the mattress beside his hip.

“Better?” he asks, adjusting the angle still.

“Much,” Seb replies. He’s super close to his phone, now - all Chris can see is one eyebrow, an eye, and half his nose.

Chris goes back to his dick, pushing his sweatpants down a little, just enough so his hips are hanging out and the length of his cock is all outlined from the pull of the elastic. He puts one foot against the mattress so he can arch up against his hand, and starts rubbing himself through the fabric, fingers sliding just underneath the waistband when he pulls back far enough to do so.

Damn, that feels good. He hasn’t had the chance to jerk off in a couple days, actually - he’s been so tired after getting back to the hotel from set. He looks over at Seb’s quarter face and swears under his breath, automatically tilting his head back against the pillow when he slides his thumb over the head of his dick.

“Lose the pants,” Seb heckles.

Chris laughs a little, breathlessly, but then cuts himself off to swear when he rubs down over his balls.

His hips jerk up as he gets closer to his ass, dick a little harder when he starts thinking about Seb fucking him.

There’s something magical about the extra beef that makes Chris want to get railed into oblivion, good fucking god. He’s too far gone to pump the breaks now, so as he pushes his sweatpants down with one hand, he wraps the other around himself. There’s no point dicking around - it’s practically four in the morning - so he really rolls his hips up into it, eyes closing at how incredible it feels.

Damn Seb, always with the good ideas.

Chris gets into a rhythm, one heel digging into the mattress to steady himself as he jerks off. That’s why it takes a good minute more than it normally would to notice Seb has totally passed out.

“What,” he pants, dick slapping back against his stomach as he pushes himself up and reaches for the phone. “Seb!”

Unsurprisingly, he does not wake up. He’s fallen asleep with his hand on his chest, phone tilted at a funny angle so all Chris sees is chin and nostril. He’s also snoring softly.

Well. So much for getting to see that… anything.

Chris takes a couple screenshots of Seb sleeping with his hard dick in a little corner of the screen, and then finishes off, no showboating and all stupid noises. By the time he gets back from wiping himself off in the bathroom, Seb’s shifted positions and the screen is pitch black, flopped down against his chest.

“Night, babe. Miss you,” he says, just in case, before ending the call.

He immediately opens up his messages, and sends Seb the screencap of their Facetime call, as well as the aftermath all over his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has left a comment! I haven't had a chance to reply because of how long these suckers always end up being, but I really appreciate them all and am glad you're enjoying :)


	10. Ten

_2019_

They’re going to a haunted house tonight, even though Chris has made it very clear he’s not happy about it.

In the twenty minutes since they left home, Chris has spiraled from reasonable conversation to going on and on about the world’s most haunted places. Even though he maintains he watched a documentary, Seb would like the record to state it was more than likely one of those stupid cable countdown shows.

“Oh don’t give me that,” Chris grimaces, wildly unimpressed when Seb doesn’t buy into his spooky facts.

Laughing, Seb looks away from where he was staring out the passenger side window, and counters, “Babe, you grew up in New England. It’s like, super haunted here.”

“Oh god, Seb, I don’t want to talk about it,” he complains, switching lanes so they can take their exit. “You don’t even count.”

The thing is, Chris has convinced himself that Seb has a resolve made of steel. That’s not really true - Chris is just really, really bad at scaring him. Chris has been trying for three years - three glorious, glorious years - without getting Seb once. On the flip side, Seb has maintained his pristine scare record over the same amount of time.

He’s reasonably sure he could go AHH! and Chris’s kneejerk reaction would be to crash their car into a tree.

“That’s not true!” Seb laughing, leaning forward. “I do count!”

“It _is_ true! Seb, it _is_ ,” Chris says earnestly. “Romania was like number five!”

Cracking up, Seb arches his eyebrows and points one accusatory finger as he exclaims, “I _knew_ you weren’t watching a documentary!”

“Oh buddy, I’m gonna drop you off on the side of the road!” Chris replies, starting to laugh despite himself. “You can walk back to Boston!”

Still smiling, Seb shakes his head a little, and says, “Oh my god, you’re ridiculous.”

“No you ah,” Chris replies automatically, and then cuts himself off to ask, “Is that parking?”

They’re outside the city in a more rural area, half industrial and half farmland. It is actually kind of spooky, Seb will admit, but that’s mostly because there are no street lights this far out and he’s a city boy from head to dick. Squinting, he leans forward over the dashboard, trying to make out the handmade cardboard sign hanging from a telephone pole.

“That says it’s up on the right,” Seb confirms.

As Chris follows the road and takes said right, the property hosting the haunted house they’re going to emerges. They ease into a line of cars already waiting to park in the field across from the farmhouse the event is being held in, and laugh as a group of teenagers wander between their bumper and the car in front of them. 

They’re all crying dramatically and holding onto each other’s arms, so Seb points at them and says, “You.”

Chris snatches his hand off the center console and aggressively kisses the back of it, attention mostly still trained on following the line of cars trying to park. They end up finding a spot in the middle of the field, which also happens to be full of mud.

Grimacing, Seb accepts Chris’s hand as they meet at the rear bumper of the car, and starts over to where Mike and Christine are waiting at the ticket booth.

~

It’s the last weekend before Halloween, so it’s busy enough to have a pretty decent line.

Christine, living up to her record as Seb’s favorite person in Massachusetts, brought the four of them boozy cider to sip during the wait.

“Oh god those people are screaming,” she says stupidly, eyes wide as she eyes the top of the farm house they’re standing in front of.

They get to talking about TV to kill time - Mike is very fired up about the final Defenders episode, which both Seb and Chris maintain they know nothing about. As they wait, Chris rests his chin on Seb’s shoulder, pressed into his back from chest to dick as he eyes the roof of the haunted barn in front of them.

“I’m taking empties,” Christine announces, as they shuffle past a sign that says NO FOOD OR DRINK.

Seb throws the last couple mouthfuls of his drink back, and then dutifully hands his paper cup over.

“There’s your boyfriend,” Chris says, cracking himself up as he raises one hand away from Seb’s chest to point at a monster faced guy roaming the edges of the line, scaring children.

Laughing, Seb tilts himself forward, pretending like he’s going to try and launch Chris over his back, and then makes an ahhh! noise as Chris tightens his grip and drops their weight back.

“There are a couple kids eyeing you from the popcorn tent,” Christine reports, ducking under the rope to cut back in line.

Seb automatically looks over in the direction Christine came from. Sure enough, two young girls quickly take a step back, trying to look busy instead of like they were lurking. He wraps his hands up around Chris’s forearms, which are still tightly crossed over his chest, and smiles even though they definitely can’t see it.

Because Chris doesn’t care about charming fans, he ignores them completely, and leans forward to kiss behind Seb’s ear instead.

~

When they get to the head of the line, both Christine and Mike volunteer Seb to go first.

“No!” Chris laughs, trying to drag Seb back because he doesn’t want to let go of him, but is also unwilling to go in first.

“Come on babe,” Seb cackles, leaning forward, trying to drag Chris’s weight along with him. “We got this.”

Seb has definitely described their relationship as an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object before, and this is the perfect real world example of that. It takes a minute of dragging Chris into it, but he finally relents, fully plastering himself to Seb’s back as they step through the door.

The worst part is trying to adjust to the dark when they first slam the doors behind their group. Seb blinks into nothing, already kind of laughing, and starts walking forward.

Christine and Mike are bickering about who gets to go first when the first monster scares them, banging up against the wall of acrylic glass nobody realized they were standing beside. The lights start to flash and Seb cracks up laughing as Chris yanks him to the side and startle-yells, “SEB!”

That first scare sets the scene for their entire walk-through. Chris maintains a double boob grab almost the whole way, which never fails to crack Seb up, and forces them to shuffle-walk, his feet bracketing Seb’s.

By the time they burst through the exit doors, everyone is jazzed up on adrenaline and laughter.

“Oh my god,” Christine sighs, as they stagger back towards the parking lot. “Let’s never do that again.”


	11. Eleven

_2016_

“Did you carve that pumpkin just to Instagram it?” Chris asks, setting Seb’s beer down on the kitchen table.

Many things baffle Chris, and Instagram is one of them.

Seb takes another picture of his pumpkin, and says, “I’m not putting it on Instagram.”

That’s probably half true. Chris doesn’t know what kind of shit Seb gets up to on social media - for the most part - and he likes it that way. That being said, he’s seen an ancient photo or two pulled from the archives in the name of skewing his current location.

He’s a sneaky bitch that way.

Chris rests a hand on Seb’s back and steps up beside him to get a good look at his pumpkin.

“Babe!” he immediately laughs, scandalized. “You have the biggest pumpkin! Why did you give him a small face!”

On the table sits Seb’s pumpkin in its classic Jack o’lantern style, with the tiniest, stupidest little :) Chris has ever seen.

“It wanted to be that way!” Seb laughs, defending himself. He sips his beer and shrugs, then looks over at Chris’s masterpiece sitting at the end of the table to ask, straight-faced, “What’s yours supposed to be?”

“Hey!” Chris exclaims, taking his hand off Seb’s back. “Don’t trash talk my pumpkin!”

~

In the spirit of their newly forged scary movie marathon, they order food and check out the movie channels.

Chris obviously opts for the one playing Dracula.

“This is your heritage, Seb,” he says, managing to get the whole thing out before receiving a solid punch to the boob. “Ow! It’s very important!”

“I hate you,” Seb laughs, dodging the grab Chris makes for his shoulder in return.

Their food arrives fifteen minutes later, which Seb takes to painstakingly arranging on the coffee table. Chris sits beside him, half watching the movie and half loading his plate up with whatever Seb hands over.

“What did he just say?” Chris asks, when the black and white vampire on-screen mutters something in Lithuanian. When Seb ignores him, Chris adds, “Sebastian.”

“Get out of here,” Seb replies, settling back with his fully loaded plate.

The movie is actually kind of boring, as Chris finds most old black and white ones to be, but they watch it anyways because it’s Halloween-y and the food is too delicious to interrupt with searching for another show.

Once the food has been destroyed, Seb groans and spreads himself out on one side of the couch, laughing a noooooo when Chris heaves himself up and settles on top, one arm tucked around Seb’s waist.

“I’m going back to the motherland,” he laughs, head tilted at a funny angle as he watches Chris get comfortable on top of him. Chris shuffles around and finally settles with his head on Seb’s chest and one hand up the leg of Seb’s underwear so he can get a handful of butt. “Hey. What do you think I am?”

Chris turns his face and bites Seb’s pec as the movie goes to commercial.

“My little vampire,” he says.

~

Chris is brushing his teeth before bed when Seb comes up behind him.

“I can see you!” he says, defensively, before Seb has a chance to scare him.

Laughing, Seb wraps both arms around Chris’s waist and presses in close, sliding his palms over Chris’s bare stomach as he does so.

“I’m not gonna scare you,” Seb promises, even though Chris doesn’t necessarily buy it.

He’s been fooled by this face before.

True to his word, though, Seb tucks in close, and noses along the line of Chris’s bare shoulder.

“Ah,” Chris garbles, skin getting tickled by the tip of Seb’s nose and his stubble.

When he leans forward to spit his toothpaste into the sink, Seb takes the opportunity to bump forward into his butt.

“I vant to suck your dick,” he says, watching their reflection in the mirror as Chris reaches for a towel.

Chris looks at him in the mirror and grins, intrigued when Seb leans in to mouth at Chris’s earlobe. He didn’t think he had a thing for that, but apparently some things you just find out later in life. 

Without waiting for an answer, Seb slides his hands into the front of Chris’s sweatpants, and sucks a kiss to the side of his neck.

“Yeah,” Chris agrees suddenly, hitting the lights as Seb gets a hand around his dick. “Let’s do that.”


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ONLY ONE DAY LEFT
> 
> [These are](http://imgur.com/a/aaBzG) the style of onesies they're wearing.

_2018_

“My god,” Seb grimaces, bracing himself as Chris rips open the box he’s been pretending to hide all week.

Looking over, Chris says, scandalized, “You don’t even know what it is yet!”

With today being Halloween and all, Seb has a pretty good idea.

“Proceed,” he allows, waving one hand as he pulls a stool up to the other side of the kitchen island.

Chris makes a stupid face at him, and returns to his unboxing.

The bad news is, a few minutes later Seb is face to face with his greatest fear: a fashion onesie.

The good news is, Chris fucked up and ordered his a size smaller than he meant to. If Seb is going to get dicked into wearing a onesie recreationally, that’s a hell of a karmic gift to receive as thanks.

“Fuck,” Chris complains, holding his onesie - a skeleton, naturally - up to his chest. “I’m gonna bust out of this.”

“It’s a definite possibility,” Seb agrees, not at all mad about it. Chris is definitely going to make it work, but he’s gonna be packed in there for sure.

“I can’t give out candy to trick or treaters in this!” he continues, horrified with himself as he checks the size tag and says, “Oh god, this is a medium. What’s yours say?”

Seb dutifully looks down to check his, and confirms, “Large. Looks like you switched sizes, buddy.”

“Damn,” Chris sighs. He considers the design for one more minute, and then strips off his shirt, dropping it on the kitchen counter.

Alright, Seb can get behind this. He watches as Chris drops his sweatpants next, kicking those off before stepping into the legs of the onesie. He gets himself situated, and sure, the legs are a little bit tight, but it definitely fits. It… it _definitely_ fits. Seb couldn’t have imagined anything fitting better than this.

“Okay,” Chris manages, still tugging at the fabric, trying to adjust it so it sits comfortably over his hips before he tugs the zipper up. It closes, but it’s a struggle, and if he bends over the tension is definitely gonna bust it back open. He squeezes his pecs in, then flips the hood up and holds his arms out to ask, “How does it look? Ridiculous?”

Ridiculous is maybe the last word Seb would use to describe the happy accident in front of him.

“You can’t hand out candy in that,” is what he says out loud. “Come closer.”

“You have to put yours on, too,” Chris complains, but moves around the kitchen island regardless. He stands between Seb’s thighs, still fidgeting with the hood and the zipper as Seb rests his hands on Chris’s hips and tugs him in. “Hey, watch it pal.”

“I’ll put mine on,” Seb promises, smoothing both hands up over Chris’s chest. “This is the best decision you’ve made in a while.”

So was not putting underwear on this morning - something that Seb usually appreciates, but _really appreciates_ right now, as he rests a hand over Chris’s dick.

“Thanks babe,” Chris replies, distracted. He reaches over to take the plastic off Seb’s devil outfit as Seb feels him up.

~

Because Chris unintentionally went a size down for his, and up a size for Seb, Seb’s is especially roomy.

“Never tell anyone I said this,” he warns, putting his hands in his pockets before taking them out and smoothing both palms down over his own chest, “But this is really comfortable.”

In front of him on the couch, Chris tugs at the seam of his upper arm, and asks, “Can I interest you in temporarily leaving satan’s army to become a skeleton?”

“You could flex a little,” Seb recommends, ignoring Chris’s business proposition. “Might stretch the arms out.”

Chris narrows his eyes, a little bit onto him, but also not sure if he should believe the friendly suggestion or not.

~

Chris is banished back to the living room whenever the doorbell rings.

“I wanna see the kids!” he exclaims, as Seb climbs off him again to hand out candy.

Seb wants him to see the kids, too, mostly so he can get out of candy duty. But if handing out a bunch of junk food to kids keeps Chris from getting out of that outfit anytime soon, it’s a sacrifice Seb is willing to make.

“I’ll tell you if there’s anything good,” he promises, snagging the bowl of candy from the living room table again.

As he leaves the room he does a little spin so his tail flips around, and makes a face over one shoulder.

The kids are actually pretty cute, even though he’d never admit that out loud. He dumps a handful of candy bars into the plastic bucket of one kid who especially charms him with his Spiderman outfit.

“You missed a cute one,” Seb reports dutifully, walking back into the living room to find Chris on the couch with his outfit unzipped down to his belly button.

Chris must notice the expression on Seb’s face, because he explains, “It’s too tight.”

“Jesus,” Seb manages, crawling back on top, hands on Chris’s shoulders as he settles into his lap.

~

They may or may not ignore a handful of doorbell rings.

The thing is, the cut on these onesies are so deep, it’s totally reasonable for Seb to take Chris’s dick out.

“Oh god,” Chris pants, head rolling back against the couch as he lifts his hips up towards Seb’s face, bumping his dick against Seb’s mouth. He looks down at what Seb is doing to his cock, and then closes his eyes and adds, “Take the hood off, it’s weird.”

Laughing, Seb keeps one hand wrapped around Chris’s dick as he reaches up with the other one to tug the fabric horns back off his head.

~

In the end, Chris can’t handle losing another opportunity to check out cute kids in costume, so he throws on a robe to answer the last round of trick or treaters at the door.

Seb stays in the living room, flopped back against the couch in nothing but his underwear.


	13. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE END!
> 
> HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

_2010_

“Maybe we should just do face paint,” Chris laments, tossing a torn apart zombie outfit back onto the shelf.

It’s 7:30 on Halloween night, and the only costume options left in the UK are what’s in front of them.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Seb frowns, cutting himself off to laugh when he finds a pair of plastic handcuffs tossed on top of a discarded box of candy. He picks them up, looks back over his shoulder, and arches his eyebrows.

Snorting, Chris picks up a child’s size princess crown, and says, “This is more my style.”

“No kidding,” Seb laughs, as they continue wandering their way down the aisle. As they move out of costumes and into cheap packaged wigs and makeup, he admits, “Face paint is probably our best option. This one says vampire and clown.”

Boy, what a combination.

“Oh forget that,” Chris scoffs, tugging the gigantic pack of face paint off the peg anyways. “We’re going rogue.”

~

Back at the hotel, they pour themselves teeny tiny drinks from the mini bar, and bust into their goods. Everyone is meeting up at their usual pub around nine, so they’ve got an hour to do whatever it is they’re going to do.

“What, you’re not going to tell me?” Seb teases, watching as Chris fights with the packaging.

With a grin, Chris raises his crazy eyebrow, and pretends to zip his mouth shut.

God, sometimes Seb can’t believe he thinks this guy is cute.

“That’s for me to know and you to… not,” Chris ends up saying, frowning at himself when he goes nowhere and reaches for his drink instead.

Laughing, Seb settles back with a sigh. They dragged the only chair in the room - obnoxiously heavy and hideously uncomfortable - into the middle of the kitchenette, for better light.

Chris downs half his drink before picking up the little wobbly plastic palette of face paints.

“Before we start, let’s make a pact,” Seb says seriously, trying to look as straight faced as possible as Chris stares back at him, startled. “If this gives either of us a rash, the makeup department doesn’t find out.”

“Deal,” Chris laughs immediately. He’d agree to any kind of makeup department related alliance, and Seb knows it - mostly because Chris is the one who usually gets reprimanded for touching his face. But those ladies are also the ones touching up Chris’s boobs, so Seb doesn’t really know what they have to complain about.

These are the things Seb thinks about as Chris gets started on his face. It takes Chris the better part of 40 minutes to finish, because he’s slow moving and a perfectionist and also apparently really bad at drawing simple shapes.

“Check me out,” he announces when he’s done, rubbing Seb’s shoulder before turning back to finish his drink.

As Seb stands up from the chair and makes his way to the bathroom, he looks over his shoulder at Chris, and raises his eyebrows in a “you better not be fucking with me” type way. He can already see that his nose is red, and he knows he saw Chris using black - but other than that, it’s all a mystery to him.

He cracks up as soon as he sees his reflection in the mirror for the first time.

The majority of his face is definitely red, like he thought, but Chris has also drawn in his eyebrows and under eyes with black. The old timey hair he’s got for Bucky is really the cherry on top. They didn’t think to pick up any colored hair spray, but Chris has darkened in his roots and hairline regardless.

“God,” he laughs, checking his devilish face out from another angle.

Chris appears in the bathroom doorway, eyebrows raised. He balances his weight against the doorframe with both hands, holding his body back as he leans his head in and asks, “Like it?”

“Yeah,” Seb laughs again, adding, “It’s ridiculous.”

~

To be honest, Seb was originally just going to use the package as inspiration and vampire Chris’s face up, but, now that Chris has gone all artsy on him, he feels like that would be a cop out - so he goes for another classic, instead.

He sticks to the black and white squares, which both turn a little grey by accident.

As he draws white lines along the planes of Chris’s bone structure, he catches Chris watching him. Seb is watching Chris back. Chris’s eyelashes are so long Seb accidentally gets white paint on them, and stands there laughing as he holds onto Chris’s bare shoulder with one hand, and tries to wipe the excess off with the pad of his thumb.

“I’m good,” Chris says, clearly lying. He blinks rapidly as his eye waters and turns a little red.

“Oh god,” Seb manages, laughing out of habit as he watches Chris struggle.

They’ve only got twenty minutes left after Chris decided to go full Rembrandt on Seb’s face, so Seb tries to make his contribution quick, but that’s easier said than done. He feels himself getting a little hot under the collar with Chris watching him so closely, face relaxed and open.

“Stop,” Seb grins, a little bashful despite himself as he gives in and laughs softly.

Smiling, Chris lowers his voice and teases back, “Make me.”

Seb shakes his head and they look at each other, struck, for a second.

“Don’t mess me up,” Seb finally smiles, pausing before he rests his thumb against Chris’s bottom lip.

He steadies the rest of his fingers along the stubbled line of Chris’s jaw as he fills in the space between bones with black paint.

~

They split up right before they leave, so Chris can run back to his room and change into different clothes.

For once in his life, Seb doesn’t have anything on hand that is super devlish. He does have a red shirt for some reason or another, which he puts on with some black jeans. It’s sufficient for spending the night as a little devil, anyway.

Before leaving, he puts his boots on and grabs his jacket.

They said they’d meet in the lobby, so Seb takes the stairs because he doesn’t want to wait for the elevator. By the time he walks past the concierge desk, smiling and waving at the nice lady who he usually sees behind it, Chris is standing in the lobby, expression drawn in concentration as he stares down at his phone.

Good fucking god, Seb thinks to himself, almost stopping in his tracks.

Every now and then, he gets a swift reminder to the dick in regards to why they have this little thing going between them, and this is one of those times. Chris is dressed from head to toe in black, which does nothing but accentuate the difference between the width of his waist compared to his shoulders.

Normally when Seb’s looking at the guy, he’s either dressed like Steve Rogers, or naked.

Tonight he’s just Chris.

“Hey,” Seb calls when he’s close enough.

Chris looks the wrong way, confused, and then smiles when he looks the right way and sees Seb.

“I got a cab coming,” he says automatically, shuffling the hoodie he isn’t wearing yet, and holding up his Blackberry as proof. “They said fifteen minutes. Guess it’s busy with Halloween and all.”

“Sure,” Seb smiles, tapping a cigarette out and resting it between his lips. “Let’s wait outside.”

~

By the time they get to the pub, the entire crew is tipsy and waiting for them.

As soon as everyone sees their full faces of makeup, they all crack up, laughing and cheering them on.

“Thank you, thank you,” Chris laughs, as they head around the table to the only two empty seats that are left near the end. The guys have already ordered a couple pitchers, which are passed down to their end before quickly being followed by two empty glasses.

Seb holds both glasses steady as Chris pours their beers, already involved in a conversation with someone else.

~

They play darts and finish off four more things of beer between the lot of them.

“Oh god,” Seb laughs, crinkling one eye closed as he tries to steady himself.

He holds his hand out, which is shaking because he’s laughing, and aims his dart at the board.

“It’s not close, but it was a good shot,” one of the guys says, patting Seb on the back after his dart goes rogue.

Chris laughs at the wooden board Seb’s dart ended up in, and drunkenly exclaims, “Seb! You weren’t even close!”

“I’m as close as I want to be,” Seb replies automatically, cracking himself up when Chris starts laughing at him.

Dropping back into one of the empty bar stools along the wall, Seb sighs and crosses both arms over his chest, watching as the round of darts narrows down to Chris and two other guys who are actually interested in playing for real and not just throwing sharp things at cork.

As Seb settles back, he can’t stop himself from watching Chris. Chris is only wearing a pair of black pants - nothing special - but damn, they’re working for him. Seb’s gaze keeps drifting from his butt to his waist to back down again.

There’s no way he’s wearing underwear under those.

He lets his mind wander as the guys cycle through another round of darts, Seb watching the proceedings rather than taking part in them. It isn’t until the waitress comes back around with another pitcher for everyone that Seb snaps out of his butt related daydreams, but even then, he’s still thinking about what he’s gonna do once they get back to the hotel.

~

“Oh god,” Seb laughs, resting his cigarette between his lips so he can rub at Chris’s chin with his thumb. “You’re all red now.”

Making a face, Chris sticks his tongue out and steals the cigarette right out of Seb’s mouth. Seb watches, smiling as Chris takes a drag and angles the smoke back over his shoulder before pressing back in close for another kiss.

When Chris pulls away this time, there’s way more red all over his chin, and some of his skeleton makeup has come off of his mouth altogether, leaving his lips looking all red and kissed out.

“How’s it look now?” he laughs, handing Seb’s cigarette back as the pub door kicks open and a couple of the crew guys come out to join them.

Seb glances down at the cigarette, and the black makeup smudged into the filter.

Chris shuffles away, surreptitiously wiping his mouth with his hand as Seb looks over and says, “Hey,” to the two that have joined.

~

They don’t get back to the hotel until well after 3AM.

In the lobby, Seb drunkenly smiles at the same concierge, and tries to keep a respectable distance between he and Chris as they make their way to the elevator. She knows they’re on different floors, but she won’t know that they aren’t going to different ones.

As the elevator doors ding and slide closed, Seb turns and tugs Chris close by the belly of his hoodie.

They get to kiss for ten floors, until the door dings again and they pull away from one another, breathing heavy.

In the hallway outside Seb’s room, the overnight maid looks at them strangely, eyes drifting down to where their makeup is all fucked up from six hours spent drinking and sneaking kisses in the dark.

When they get back to Seb’s room, Seb gets the door unlocked, grinning as Chris presses into his ass dick first. As soon as the door is opened and closes behind them, Seb turns around and tugs Chris in sharp, hands already going to unzip his hoodie.

They’re both shirtless, with Chris’s pants open, when Seb breaks away and laughs, “It’s too weird with the faces.”

It takes five minutes to scrub everything off. Seb’s in particular really wants to linger, although he does spend some of his time helping Chris remove the leftover streaks from the side of his neck and the front of his chest. By the time they’re as good as they’re gonna get short of a shower, Chris has got him back against the counter, and they’re kissing again.

Seb gets Chris’s pants the rest of the way down around his hips, and grabs his ass with both hands, pulling him in closer. Jostled by the sudden movement, Chris breaks away from the kiss and presses his face into the side of Seb’s instead, breathing hard as Seb grabs at his ass a little bit more, groaning when Chris pushes back into it.

They’ve never done it this way before.

“Come here,” Seb breathes, trying to tug Chris around by the waist.

Chris follows the press of his hands, and ends up between his knees, back to front.

Grinning, Seb rubs his hands over Chris’s shoulders and then around, over his stomach and down to his dick. When he gets to Chris’s butt, he gives it a smack.

When Chris presses back against him this time, Seb drops down off the counter, and presses back.

~

Even though Seb could have sworn they got all the face paint off last night, when he wakes up the next morning, there is definitely a little bit of red and a little bit of black smudged into both of his pillows.

Bleary-eyed and wildly hungover, Seb rolls to the side and flops his arm out across the open expanse of mattress beside him.

He ends up falling back asleep for a bit, and when he wakes up again, it’s only because his phone is vibrating. It takes him a good couple minutes to realize his phone is still across the room, and most likely in the pocket of the pants he was wearing last night.

Naked, Seb manages to lurch himself out of bed and stagger over to where the noise is coming from. His head is swimming viciously the whole time, especially when he drops down to dig through his clothes.

He picks his pants up, and sits down at the edge of the bed before fishing his phone out of the back pocket.

It’s just an email from one of the crew guys last night, its subject HALLOWEEN NITE.

Seb thumbs it open automatically, grimacing when he scratches his ear and his hand comes away from his face with more red on it. He’ll have to get in the shower at some point today, he thinks to himself, yawning as the email loads.

There are a handful of pictures, the majority of which are drunk and blurry. No message.

Seb finds himself stuck on looking at the last one most.

~

_”Oh come on, you two can get a bit closer!” Tony goads, drunk and unimpressed as he laughs and stares at Seb and Chris on the screen of his phone._

_Laughing, the two of them automatically shift closer together. What’s the difference between friends and whatever it is they’re doing? Would anyone be able to tell from this alone? Chris wraps his arm around Seb and leans in, so his chin is almost touching Seb’s shoulder._

_Seb steadies himself: drunk or not, it’s foolish to play this game in front of an audience._

_He tries not to turn his head to look at Chris’s face, and smiles at Tony’s shitty flip phone instead._

_“Say cheeeeeeese!!” someone else calls out, which makes Chris laugh._

_In turn, Seb laughs for real, too, photo smile gone as the flash snaps and Tony takes the picture._

_“Oh there’s one for the memory book boys!” he laughs, sitting back in his chair._

_Seb gives in, and turns his head a little. He watches as Chris moves away from him, removing his arm from around Seb’s shoulders as he smiles and says something to Tony that makes them both crack up._

_Just one for the memories, Seb reminds himself, watching the way Chris points at someone over Tony’s shoulder and laughs, hand coming back to smack himself in the chest happily._

_That’s it, that’s all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who commented over the course of this! I was so busy writing the stories daily I didn't get a chance to respond to each comment, but I really, really appreciated all of them.
> 
> IF YOU LIKED 13 DAYS OF HALLOWEEN, LET ME KNOW! It's possible I may do the same thing over Christmas if the interest is there :)
> 
> And always, come hit me up on tumblr if you wanna say "hi."


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